


who you are is not what you've been

by HeartonFire



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Bed & Breakfast, Canon Compliant through Punisher season 1, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mutual Pining, Rating May Change, Rating has changed, Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Smut, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartonFire/pseuds/HeartonFire
Summary: Karen gets offered a book deal and Frank convinces her to take it. They go on a road trip together to do research and find more than they ever thought they would along the way.Not Daredevil Season 3 compliant.





	1. i can tell that it's gonna be a long road

If you had asked Karen Page for the most impossible thing she could think of, she might have thought of Nelson and Murdock reuniting, or Wilson Fisk getting out of prison and donating all his time and money to making an actual difference in Hell’s Kitchen.

What she wouldn’t have thought of was Frank Castle, fast asleep and wrapped in a floral duvet, broad body crammed into an antique bed while sunlight streamed through lacy curtains.

She definitely wouldn’t have thought of herself, wrapped up right next to him, one of his strong arms locked around her waist. She could feel the heat from his body and fought the urge to snuggle closer to him.

It had been hard enough to convince him not to sleep in the rickety old rocking chair by the window. The last thing she needed was to spook him when they were four hundred miles out of the city and planning to leave it in the rearview mirror.

He made the decision for her, just like the decision to go on this road trip in the first place, tightening his grip on her and pulling her back flush against his broad chest. She could hear his heart thumping between the beats of her own and felt his lungs rising and falling with hers. Soft noises started on the floor below, clinking plates and clattering knives signaling breakfast.

Karen was hungry, but the cozy warmth of Frank against the cool air of the morning was too tempting to leave. He mumbled something against her hair and she froze, trying to decipher his words.

His arm tensed and then released her. “Morning,” he said, and she turned to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes. Rays of sunlight softened the harsh lines of Frank’s face. A gentle smile crossed his face and Karen relaxed into the pillows.

“Good morning.”

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, rolling onto his back. His eyes studied the ceiling, but Karen could almost see his mind whirring.

“Sorry about what?”

“Didn’t mean to grab you like that.” If Karen didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he was blushing. But the Punisher didn’t blush. Neither did Frank. Or, at least, she didn’t think he did.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said, clenching her fists to keep from reaching out for him. It was more than okay, and she hadn’t slept so well in months, but she couldn’t exactly tell him so. Not when they were going to be spending so much time together. He wasn’t hers. Not like that.

Frank grunted a response and rolled out of bed. His hair was long enough to be slightly messy from sleep, and he ran his fingers through it, messing it up further.

Karen stared up at the plaster over her head and stretched, groaning a little at the cracking and popping of her joints. Six hours in the car the previous day had not been kind to her body. But then, neither had months of hunching over her computer at the Bulletin.

She knew that was why Ellison had suggested this whole thing. She had spent the last six months working until she fell asleep at her computer, dragging herself home, and sleeping for as long as she could force herself to keep her eyes closed. Every time she tried to sleep, she dreamed of gunfire and bombs and blood, and she never slept for long. There were too many ghosts in her head to let her sleep.

So, she knew he had only brought up a book deal and a sabbatical because he was worried she was going to drop dead, and she appreciated that. She hadn’t been about to take it, though, until she told Frank.

Karen had been so startled by the offer she had gone to take a walk to think about it. Before she knew what she was doing, she had dialed the number Frank had left her in a note on her fire escape. He had attached it to a new pot of flowers, daisies this time. She had seen him a few times since the carousel. Since after. But only for a quick cup of coffee and a check in to make sure he was okay. That she was okay. As if she could be okay.

“Where do you want to go?” he had said, surprisingly unsurprised by her call. She could still hear the unspoken question in his voice.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I even want to do it,” she had replied. She had never been out of the Northeast. Where _didn’t_ she want to go?

It was like Frank could read her mind. “I’ll pick you up in a half hour. Pack your stuff.”

And that was that. She hadn’t even asked where he was taking her. She knew Frank would tell her if she asked, but it felt exciting not to know. She had been trying so hard to control everything in her life when it flew into chaos, it was freeing to let someone else take the wheel, literally.

She had watched flowers and leafy trees fly past the windows while he drove a startlingly clean Mustang down winding roads and broad highways. The season had just shifted into that moment when it really felt like spring. She knew it wouldn’t last, but the farther they drove from the city, the more she could believe they could live inside this bright, warm day.

And now, here they were, in a bed and breakfast in upstate New York, most of her belongings in the trunk of the car.

“You’ve never been to Niagara Falls, right?” Frank had asked her, after two hours of humming along to the radio.

Karen had shaken her head and watched his face split into a grin. A real one. One that went all the way to his eyes.

“Me neither.”

They left too late to get there in a day, though Karen knew Frank had it in him to drive all night if she asked. She didn’t ask.

Instead, he pulled into the driveway of a place with some cutesy name and bought them a night in the “Victorian Room.” It was the only room left. He ignored the way the innkeeper smiled at them when she handed them their key. Karen hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell the woman they weren’t really together. What did it matter, anyway?

She could hear the water running in the bathroom and forced herself to sit up. The smell of eggs and bacon wafting up from the dining room was making her stomach growl.

She stretched again, one vertebra stubbornly refusing to crack into place. Sighing, she wrenched her body out of bed and padded barefoot to her hastily packed overnight bag. She pulled out a flowery dress and laid it on the bed.

The water turned off in the bathroom, but Karen didn’t rush. She slid her pajamas down her legs and let them pool on the floor. Her top followed, leaving her nearly naked in the middle of the room. Catching herself, she felt heat flood to her face and grabbed at the dress to pull it on, just as Frank emerged from the bathroom, towel slung around his hips. Drops of water clung to his hair and his skin. He froze when he saw her, half-turning away.

“Sorry,” he grunted. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Frank did blush.

Karen brushed past him and locked the door behind her. Hands gripping the edge of the sink, she stared at herself in the mirror.

“Stop being ridiculous,” she muttered, splashing water on her face. She brushed her teeth and tried to slow her racing heartbeat. They weren’t like that. Whatever this was, it wasn’t like that. Frank was just trying to help her. He was her friend. He always had been.

Maybe if she kept telling herself that, she might actually be able to convince herself to stop wondering. Stop wishing. Stop hoping for something that Frank couldn’t give her. That he didn’t want to give her.

For now, though, she needed to get herself out of this bathroom to face the man on the other side of the door.

Frank was sitting on the bed, back straight and hands on his knees, like he was back on patrol. His face relaxed when he saw her and she tried to focus on making her legs move like they were supposed to.

“Hungry?” he grunted, nodding at the door.

“Very.” Karen slid her feet into her shoes and led the way down the creaking staircase. The plush carpet muffled the sound a bit, but in the deafening silence between them, it felt like each step was an explosion.

“Morning, sleepyheads!” the innkeeper chirped, beaming at them. “We weren’t sure you were going to make it down for breakfast at all.” She winked.

“It smells good,” Karen said, ignoring the implied message in the woman’s words.

“Sit, sit.” She waved at them to take two chairs at a table laden with more breakfast food than Karen had seen in a very long time. Frank didn’t quite meet her eyes over the top of his coffee cup, but she knew he was watching her.

* * *

They made it to Niagara Falls that morning, and stood overlooking the waterfall, spray cooling their faces. The sky was an incredible blue. Like Karen’s eyes.

Frank watched as she closed those eyes, inhaling the cool air and smiling. She was relaxed in a way he had never seen her. Of course, when he usually saw her, she was being threatened, or he was on the run.

This time, he was protecting her from herself. From her own instinct to work until she collapsed. She had broken more stories in the last six months than anyone else, but the strain showed.

She was thinner now, so thin she looked like she might blow away if the wind picked up too much. She had shadows under her eyes that never quite went away, and her smiles were forced and faint. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, as much as he did.

Not now, though, and not this morning. He had woken to find her in his arms, and thought he was dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamed of waking up beside Karen. It had been hard to admit, at first. He felt like he was betraying Maria. But Curt and the other guys at group kept reminding him that it was okay to move forward. It was okay to feel again. It was okay to want again. He didn’t have to keep punishing himself forever. He could practically hear Curt saying it in his head.

But he couldn’t quite do it. He had let her go, pushed her away, taken an icy shower, and now he was holding himself back from her. He kept space between them. He couldn’t touch her. It wasn’t what they did. No matter what he wanted, he didn’t want to put that on her.

She looked at him then, eyes searing into him, burning him with something that made his heart jump painfully.

“Thank you,” she said softly, squeezing his arm. “This is amazing.”

He nodded. The air was cool, water misting up at them from the falls. Frank saw a rainbow far below and wanted to point it out, but stopped himself. Karen was the one good with words. Not him. He didn’t need to ruin the moment by saying something stupid.

“Fr-Pete?” she said, studying his face. She had always struggled with using his pseudonym. He hated hearing her call him Pete.

He shook himself out of his own head and met her eyes. Those impossible, infuriating, incredible blue eyes.

“Coffee?” he blurted. It was the first thing he thought of. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep gaping at her like this. He could still hardly believe she had agreed to come on this crazy trip with him in the first place. Falling down the rabbit hole of why she had and what she might want wasn’t something he was in a position to do at this moment. Not here. Not in this place, with a force of nature in front of him and another one beside him.

“Yeah,” she said, still smiling. She took his arm like it was easy, like it was normal, and they walked through the milling crowds to a little coffee shop a few blocks away. It was a crisp, spring day, and the walk was nice. Feeling the weight of her hand in the crook of his elbow was nicer.

They got a pair of coffees, and kept walking. Frank would keep walking forever if she asked.

She didn’t, and they found a bench away from the crush of people, but close enough they could hear the falls. The sound was soothing, like ocean waves on a constant loop. He had never liked the beach much. Too much like the desert. But Maria had. So had his kids. He had spent more days building crooked sandcastles and wrestling with sun umbrellas than he could count.

But this wasn’t that. This was a waterfall. This was falling over a cliff, with nothing to catch him but this impossibly beautiful blonde woman who was looking at him like maybe he really wasn’t a monster. She had done it before. She wouldn’t let him fall.

Oh, but he was falling. Heart in his throat, he was falling. The ground was dissolving beneath him the longer she stared at him.

He coughed, and she seemed to realize she was looking too long. She blinked and her eyes rested on the lid of her coffee cup. She bit her lip, and he wondered what she wasn’t saying.

“Where to next?” she said softly, so quiet he almost didn’t hear her over the rushing water.

“Where do you want to go, ma’am?”

She smiled again at that, but it was an echo. A shadow of her real smile.

“I don’t know. Everywhere.”

“Then let’s go.”

“What?”

“Let’s drive. See where we end up.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?” Frank nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She stood, extending her hand to help him up. He didn’t need it, but he took it anyway. He felt a stab of guilt for taking the excuses she gave him to touch her, but she was like a magnet. He couldn’t help himself. He needed it, and he took it.

She even let him open the car door for her. He cranked up the radio and they drove. Away from the congested roads around the falls, and out. Out into the country. Out into whatever awaited them in the next place they stopped.

There were two beds at the motel outside Cincinnati. Frank was barely asleep when Karen started screaming.

He sat bolt upright, hand finding the gun he kept on the table. He stared into the darkness, but he didn’t see anything. Standing silently and padding over to the other bed, feet bare and cold on the rough carpet.

He flicked on the light and Karen wasn’t bleeding. There was no one there. Just her. Head buried in her pillow, ragged sobs tearing their way out of her throat.

“No. No! Please! No! Stop!”

Frank put the safety on and dropped the gun. He didn’t think. He couldn’t. He had to help her.  He knew what nightmares could do to a person. He gathered her to his chest and stroked her hair.

“Karen,” he said gently, over the sound of her cries. “Karen, wake up. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

She woke with a start. He felt her stiffen, fists clenched, eyes wild. She blinked up at him, like she almost didn’t recognize him. Her eyes widened when she finally saw him, and tears welled up. She shook her head, tried to push him away, but he wasn’t letting go. Not now.

“Hey, hey, hey, relax,” he said, and she stopped struggling against him. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Take a breath. It’s okay.”

She let out a shaky breath. She wouldn’t look at him. “Frank,” she whispered, hand clutching at his shirt instead of pushing against him.

“You want to talk about it?”

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. She was trembling. He could feel her shivering against his chest.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, in a small voice. Frank’s heart swelled with something he didn’t want to examine too closely. He’d do anything she asked. He knew that.

“Yeah,” he breathed, smelling the flowery perfume of hotel shampoo in her hair. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

For the second time in as many nights, Frank found himself sharing a bed with Karen Page. This time, he knew what he was doing when he put an arm around her waist.

He did it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was partially inspired by my smut week fic, but I wanted to stretch it out and add some depth to the development of their relationship. This will be less plot-heavy than some of my other fics, and there will probably be smut later, but for now, just a lot of these two idiots wanting each other and not saying anything about it. Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I wanted to post this before Daredevil season 3, because I doubt this will be compliant with that.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! :)


	2. if you jump i'll break your fall

They didn’t talk about it. Because of course they didn’t. They didn’t talk about things like this. Not since the diner, when they were talking about other people. They had never had a language to talk about each other and whatever this was between them.

But Karen couldn’t sit quietly for another day in the car, while they followed an old highway through the corn and soy fields of the Midwest. Not after the previous night. Not after Frank saved her again, protected her from herself. His warm weight beside her kept the nightmares away, but she kept replaying the sound of her own voice, quiet and scared, asking him to stay. He had understood, had slid into bed and held her to him, but he hadn’t wanted to. He wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t asked him to. She knew that.

“Did you go on road trips with your family?” she asked, turning down the radio as they passed into Indiana.

Frank pressed down on the accelerator, sending the car roaring past everyone. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “No.”

“Really?”  
He shook his head. “I always wanted to be home when I was home. Drove Maria crazy. She wanted to go somewhere else, celebrate. She was tired of being home. But me, I was so happy to be back, I didn’t want to leave until I shipped out again.”

“That makes sense.” Karen bit her lip. Frank didn’t sound sad, talking about his family, but she knew it was a sore spot for him. She didn’t want to push too hard. She had to protect him too.

“Your folks take you on trips?”

Karen shrugged. “Just camping sometimes. My dad had a fishing cabin in the mountains, but I never really liked fishing.” She could almost smell the stale scent of fish guts and metal that had always made her stomach roil. “My brother loved it, though. He would go out there almost every weekend in the summer.”

“You have a brother?”

Karen forgot, sometimes, who she had told which part of her life. She nodded, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. She had kept that part of her private for a reason. Not even Foggy or Matt knew the whole story. Just Ellison. And Ben. And even they didn’t know everything. Karen Page was good at keeping secrets. She had to be.

“How old is he?” Of course, Frank had follow-up questions. It was in his nature. Just like it was in hers.

“Younger than me.” It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t lie to Frank. He didn’t lie to her.

“You see him much?”

“No,” Karen said, voice cracking a little. She stared out the window, hoping Frank wouldn’t hear the tears tightening her throat.

“Karen?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Karen nodded, harder than she needed to. She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his eyes on the back of her head.

“Where should we go next?” she asked, voice sounding strangely high and cheerful to her own ears.

“Wherever you want,” Frank answered. It didn’t matter. He would keep driving until he couldn’t. She knew that.

“Ever been to Chicago?”

She glanced at him and he shook his head. “Chicago it is.”

“Maybe we can stay there a few days.”

“Whatever you want, ma’am.”

There it was. The space. The boundary between them. She couldn’t cross it now, not after shutting him out, staring out the window instead of facing what had happened. Not after she hadn’t told him what her nightmare was about. He was there, he would help her with whatever she needed, he would hold her to keep her from shaking into a million pieces, but they weren’t like that. He wasn’t hers. Her name didn’t fall off his tongue with endearments. She wasn’t his.

Except she was. She knew it, but she couldn’t tell him that any more than she could tell him about Kevin. Or her nightmares. She added it to the list of things she wouldn’t lie to him about, but she wouldn’t share either. Those things were her crosses to bear, not his. God knew he had enough of his own.

His fingers tapped on the steering wheel, not quite to the beat of the music, still playing softly in the background. His eyes were on the road, but Karen could practically hear him thinking. Wondering what she wasn’t telling him. Maybe wishing he had never come with her on this crazy trip.

“So, what’s the book going to be about?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Karen nearly cried with relief. He always knew what she needed, even (and especially) when she didn’t.

“Uh, I’m not sure yet. They want me to write about vigilantes and superheroes, or so Ellison says. Apparently, it’s ‘my brand.’” She even did the air quotes. Frank’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t worry. I won’t write about you unless you want me to. New York superheroes are kind of overdone, anyway.” He choked out a laugh. “I’m thinking, while we’re on the road, maybe I can find out how other cities are dealing with that kind of thing.”

“Do other cities have anything like the ones in New York?”

“I don’t know,” Karen said, smiling. “But I think they must. Not people like Captain America or the Hulk, but people like Jessica Jones or Luke Cage.”  
“Not people like me?” He was watching her carefully now. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was nervous. Unsure. But that couldn’t be right. Frank was nothing if not sure. Always.

“There’s no one like you, Frank,” she said. She meant it.

He didn’t smile, but his face relaxed into an expression she wasn’t sure she had ever seen on him before. He still looked a little wary, but Karen almost thought she saw a spark of something else in his eyes.

“That right?” he said slowly.

“Yeah. That’s right.” Her heart was pounding now. She meant it, but the more she said it, the more it made it real. Frank was special. He was hers.

Except he wasn’t. She couldn’t claim him. He had found his one and only, and it wasn’t his fault that Karen had been stupid enough to let him get so close. Let him get inside her soul. Let him make her believe in something again. Let him give her hope for something that was never going to happen.

“Maybe we’ll find something in Chicago,” he said, grunting with frustration as they hit a snag in traffic. “If we ever get to Chicago.”

Karen sat back in her seat and turned the music back up. Maybe they would.

* * *

Chicago was just like New York, and nothing like it. Masses of people and cars and buses and buildings sprang up around them after hours of driving through fields and small towns. But it smelled wrong, somehow, and Frank hated the feeling of not knowing exactly where he was going. He had a map of New York in his head, and he always had three routes to anywhere he wanted to go. But here, he was lost.

He got them downtown and pulled into a hotel. It was pretty upscale, but if they were going to be staying for a few days, he wanted Karen to be comfortable. She deserved that. She needed it. So did he, if he was being honest.

“King bed or two queen beds?” the front desk clerk asked, with a bright smile. Frank’s mind raced. Karen was behind him, and he could feel her watching him.

“King,” he said, as decisively as he could manage with Karen’s eyes on him like that. He didn’t have to turn around to know that she was surprised. He didn’t know why she would be. If there was a way he could keep her from having nightmares, he was going to do it. Seemed like a waste to have a second bed.

“Very good, sir.” Handing Frank the key, the clerk waved at them as they made their way to the elevator.

This elevator ride was different to their last. There was no blood, no guns, no dislocated shoulders to reckon with. Karen leaned against the wall, curling in on herself a little, and Frank didn’t try to bridge the gap between them. She was thinking, processing something, and he needed to give her that space. She didn’t need him crowding her right now.

The room was bright and airy, smaller than it should have been for the price he had paid, but it was clean, and the bed looked significantly more comfortable than the motel or that awful antique bed in the B&B. Frank was satisfied, even as he peered out the window to make sure there were no weak spots. No places someone could enter without being noticed.

“Frank,” Karen said, sinking down onto the bed, hands clasped in her lap. “Is this okay? I mean, are you okay with this?”

He blinked rapidly. His heart was beating an irregular staccato against his ribcage. “Okay with what?”

“I mean, we could still switch to two beds. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I can handle my nightmares.” She bit her lip. He had a feeling she had shadows under her eyes from ‘handling her nightmares’ by herself for the last six months.

“Karen,” he said, crouching in front of her. “I don’t want you to be scared. I want you to sleep. If it helps to have me there, it’s okay. Really.”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

He bit back the impulse to tell her he would do whatever it took to help her sleep through the night. Even if it meant sleeping next to her and never touching her outside of one arm around her waist every night. He would take that and hold onto it. He would hold onto her for as long as she let him. Whatever she wanted was okay with him. She just had to tell him and he would do it. Whatever she asked. He didn’t say any of that.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he said instead, and she looked up at him, eyes unreadable. “Somewhere nice. Get out of this fast food rut.” They hadn’t eaten anything with a vegetable in it in two days.

She smiled at that, and looked down at what she was wearing. “Okay. Just let me take a shower and change.”

“You got it.” He toed off his boots and flicked on the TV. He turned it up loud enough to drown out the sound of the water running in the bathroom. Whatever dumb action movie was on was hardly enough to keep his mind off Karen. Naked. Wet. He could almost see her ivory skin flushing in the heat of the water, hair dripping down her back.

He shifted to adjust himself and forced his mind to focus back on the screen while he pulled on a clean pair of pants and the only button-down shirt he had brought with him. The last thing he needed, after forcing the bed issue, was to make her feel awkward or unsafe with him. She was just taking a shower. It was no big deal. He could be an adult about this. He had gone so long without, it would be easy, he told himself. He just had to think about something else.

The water shut off, and he heard the hair dryer buzzing through the closed door. He remembered watching Maria get ready for their date nights. She always wanted it to be a surprise, but he loved watching her do her hair and put on her makeup. Fix her outfit and choose her jewelry. There was so much ritual to it. So much meaning to every choice.

He didn’t have to wonder too long what Karen would choose. She emerged, shoulders no longer tense and stiff, in a deep purple dress that skimmed her hips and swirled around those long, slim legs. She was barefoot, and Frank was seized with the wild thought that she looked like a goddess. Maybe a wood nymph. He remembered reading a story about those with Lisa. She had loved fairies and magic. Karen was magic. He’d known that for a long time.

“You look good,” she said, slipping earrings into her earlobes. They shimmered. So did she.

She slid her feet into a pair of heels he hadn’t even realized she had brought with her, and Frank knew he was in over his head. It wasn’t often he couldn’t see a way out, a way back, but this was something else. _She_ was something else. He was drowning in her. He couldn’t think about anything else.

“So do you,” he managed to choke out. “You look beautiful.” She did. No point pretending she didn’t.

“Thanks,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were pink. “Shall we?”

Frank held her coat for her while she put it on. He followed her out of the room and forced himself not to put his hand against the small of her back. He clenched it into a fist at his side and tried to remember that that wasn’t something they did. That wasn’t something that was allowed. No matter how much he wanted it to be.

They walked down the street, side by side, until they found a quiet little restaurant by the river. The tables were lit with small candles and Frank could hear classical music playing faintly through the door as they approached. Karen smiled at him and he waved her inside.

It was strange, sitting with her at a table like this. They didn’t do this. Coffee was one thing. Dinner was another. The last time they had sat across from each other in a restaurant, he had used her as bait and beat two men to death.

This was not that.

She was looking at him now, like she knew him. Because she did. Of course, she did. She hadn’t then, but she kept coming back. Kept believing in him. Kept trusting him. He didn’t know why she did, but he was so grateful. She was so good, so strong, so smart, and she kept choosing him.

And he chose her. He chose to be here, with her. He would keep choosing her until she forced him to stop. He just hoped she never did.

“Wine, Frank?” she asked, pushing the wine list towards him. He had never pretended to be much of a connoisseur, but he glanced over the list anyway. He thought back to having wine with another woman. Blonde. Strong. But not the one he wanted.

“You like rosé?”

Karen smiled, laughter bubbling under her voice. “Sure. Do you?”

“Yeah. It’s good shit.”

She really laughed then, and the sound warmed him from the inside out. She was magic. He’d always known that.

“Then I guess rosé it is.”

He ordered a bottle. They were walking back to the hotel, and he needed something to calm his nerves a bit. He had never been nervous with her. He didn’t need to start now. Nothing was different.

Except everything was different.

“So, we start research tomorrow?” he said, trying to bring them back to familiar ground, and Karen’s head tilted.

“I was thinking we could go to one of the museums.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Ellison made me take a sabbatical. He never said what exactly I had to do with it. The book will keep. And there’s an exhibit I want to see. Somewhere to start.”

Frank smiled and took a sip of his wine.

He hardly tasted his dinner. He was sure it was good. The sounds Karen was making told him it was good. The sounds she was making were also why he couldn’t focus on anything but her. She insisted he try some of her dinner, but he didn’t taste that either. He said something, to appease her, and she grinned, taking the plate back before he could take more. He didn’t want any.

It was dark by the time they left, and the air was cold. Karen shivered beside him and Frank shrugged out of his coat to put it around her.

“Frank,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to freeze.”

“It’s not that far.” He was warm from the wine. He was warm from Karen. She needed his coat. She could have it.

They were walking back to the hotel when they heard live music playing. A dimly lit bar lay to their right. The hotel was in sight ahead.

“Want to go in?” Karen said, eyes soft and unsure.

“Whatever you want, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is leading into some things that I'm excited about, but as a warning, I am working hard to do an actual slow burn on this one, so don't go looking for smut anytime soon. These two have a lot more pining and talking themselves out of their feelings to go before anything happens (but look for the rating to change later when they finally get there). ;)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Kudos and comments are so, so appreciated. You guys are the best, and I'm glad you like it so far!


	3. you and i walk a fragile line

Two drinks later, Karen felt fuzzy and loose in the best way. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed. A band was playing covers of songs she knew she recognized, but she couldn’t quite place them. Frank’s fingers were tapping along on the side of his glass and she let herself watch him watch the band.

His face was soft, relaxed, but his eyes were watching intensely. He did everything intensely. The thought took her mind to a place she would never let it go if she was sober. She giggled.

“Something funny, Miss Page?” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

She blushed. “No, Mister Castiglione.” She tripped over the name and it sent her into another wave of giggles. “You couldn’t pick an easier name to say?”

He smiled. “Easy enough to say when you’re not drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Karen said indignantly. She sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “Could someone who was drunk do this?” She fished the cherry out of her whiskey sour and pulled off the fruit. She put the stem in her mouth and pulled it out again in seconds, tied in a knot. She hadn’t even thought about it. It was one of those party tricks she had learned in high school and never forgot.

Frank bowed his head, no trace of a smile left on his face. “I suppose not, Miss Page.” There was something in his eyes now. A heat she hadn’t seen before.

“What’s with all the formality all of a sudden?” she blurted, and he sat back, eyes widening.

“What?”

“You’ve _never_ called me Miss Page. Even when I was kind of one of your lawyers. So, what’s the deal?” Karen was as surprised as he was at the words spilling out of her mouth. Maybe she was a little drunk.

“No deal. Just said it.”

Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”

“What?” Frank barked out a laugh.

“Bull. Shit,” Karen said deliberately, poking her finger into his chest. Or trying to. His chest was terribly firm under her touch. Firmer than she thought it would be, if she allowed herself the luxury of thinking about it. About him. About touching him. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. It wasn’t allowed. “I call bullshit. You don’t do anything without a reason.”

“Okay.” He downed the rest of his drink. “You want to dance or should we get out of here?”

Karen nearly knocked her glass over. “You dance?”

Frank smiled again, slow and lazy. Karen shivered, though it was warm in the bar. “Want me to prove it?”

She did. She really did. She felt like she was getting a glimpse of the man she had heard about from people who knew him before. The man who was funny. The man who was romantic. The man who danced.

She took his hand and he led her to the dancefloor in the middle of the room. A few couples were dancing to the music, but it was far from crowded. His hands looped around her waist, and she felt warm all the way down to her toes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed him in. If he hadn’t been swaying with her, she would have been frozen in place. She couldn’t quite process his hands on her like this. Her hands on him. Dancing with him like this was something they did. Like she was allowed to have him like this.

He held her against him, and she felt his heart beating in his chest. After all the times she had thought he was dead, it was a comforting sound. He was alive. He was here. He was with her. He wasn’t letting go. He was holding her and it had been his idea. Karen wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t dreaming. She didn’t want to wake up.

Too soon, the song changed to something faster, but Frank’s hands lingered. His eyes were hooded, pupils dark in the dim club. Karen shivered again, feeling the loss when his warmth disappeared. He backed away, taking their coats from their table and leading her to the door.

She followed him, shrugging into her coat when he held it out to her. He smoothed the back of it after she slid her arms through the sleeves, guiding her outside with a gentle touch between her shoulders.

Karen hardly noticed the walk home. They were back in the room before she knew what had happened. Frank wouldn’t look at her.

“Frank,” she said softly, watching him pad around the room in his socks. He was holding his toothbrush, and her heart ached with the domesticity of it. She could imagine him, the same way, with his wife. His kids. His family.

“Drink some water, Karen,” he said.

She blinked at him incredulously, brought brutally back to the present. To the reality of what they were doing here. Who they were to each other. “Drink some water?” she said, voice harsher than she intended.

“Yeah. You’re going to feel that whiskey and wine in the morning.”

“I can take care of myself.”  
“I know you can. I’m just trying to help.” He shrugged and took another step towards the bathroom.

“Why, though?”

He froze, head swiveling to look at her. “What?”

“Why are you helping me? Why did you come on this trip with me?” She didn’t mean to ask, but her brain was pushing the words out before she could stop them. She wanted to know. She needed him to explain.

He closed his eyes, like he was trying to collect himself. “Why do you think, Karen?”

“I don’t know, Frank,” she said, voice rising. “I can’t figure it out. So, tell me. What’s in this for you?”

“Karen.” He ran a hand over his face. He was frustrated. She could tell by the set of his shoulders. But his eyes were soft when he looked at her. So soft, she almost regretted pushing him. Almost.

“Frank.”

“You needed to get out of the city. Get away from all that shit that’s been eating you alive. Get some weight back on your bones. Get some sleep for once.” His voice was steady, but those eyes made her weak. Those deep, dark eyes that made her feel like she was suffocating. He was looking at her like she was the only other person in the world and she thought she might collapse from the weight of it.

“That’s not what I asked, Frank.” Karen felt tears springing to her eyes. Frank saw so much, and he never said anything. She had to know. She had to hear it from him.

“I was worried about you, Karen. You called me, remember? You told me about this whole thing in the first place. I knew you’d never go on your own, and it just so happens I have a perfect car for road trips. We both get out of the city and you figure out what you need. That’s what’s in it for me.”

Karen didn’t know when she had stood up, but she was in front of him by the time he finished speaking, so close she could touch him if she wanted. She wanted to, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

His eyes flickered down to her lips and back up to meet hers. She felt a flush rising from her toes to her forehead. She felt dizzy.

She was about to lean closer, saw him tilt his head a fraction of an inch, when her phone started buzzing in her bag.

* * *

Frank retreated to the bathroom before Karen even answered the phone. Whatever was happening between them was just because they had had a few drinks. Nothing more. Karen wasn’t his. He wasn’t hers.

But he was. He knew it. She had to know it too. She wouldn’t stop pushing until he told her. He had nearly confessed too much, but he could hold his liquor better than she could, if only just.

He heard her voice, muffled through the door. He turned on the water and drowned it out. He splashed water on his face and tried not to wonder what might have happened if her phone hadn’t started ringing. If she had stepped closer. If he had.

By the time he was finished brushing his teeth, she was off the phone, curled up under the covers, apparently dead to the world. When he slid under the sheets beside her, though, he felt her chest rising and falling too quickly for her to be sleeping. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t move. Eventually, her breathing slowed and she fell asleep. He didn’t touch her. He couldn’t.

He was just drifting off alongside her, when he heard her whimper. Her body tensed and he pulled her against him before he could overthink it.

“No, no, no,” she kept saying, voice cracking. She turned onto her back and Frank saw tears streaming down her face.

“Karen, wake up.” She shuddered, cringing away from him, but her eyes stayed closed. “Karen, please. Please, wake up.”

She woke with a gasp, eyes wild. She pushed him away so hard she nearly fell out of bed, but he wouldn’t let that happen. He held her tighter, stroked a hand over her hair while she sobbed against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured against her temple. “Karen, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

She shook her head and buried her face harder against him. Frank didn’t ask if she wanted to talk about it. He knew the answer. He still wondered, but he just held her until her heart stopped racing and her breathing went back to normal. He held her until he fell asleep right along with her.

When he woke in the morning, sunlight was blazing through the crack in the curtains. It fell across Karen’s face and lit her hair like a halo. Frank didn’t need the reminder that she was an angel. He already knew that.

She was still asleep, and he studied her face in a way he never allowed himself when she was awake. When she was looking back at him.

Her face was serene in sleep now, gentle, soft. She wasn’t having a nightmare, and a tiny hint of a smile crossed her lips. Her eyelashes were golden shadows on her cheeks and Frank wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything so beautiful. He had loved to watch Maria sleep, too. His kids. His family. The thought didn’t hurt so much when he was looking at Karen.

He tried to get up without waking her. He had some half-formed idea of getting them coffee and pastries and bringing them back to her, along with some aspirin. She would be feeling those drinks when she woke up.

As soon as he moved, though, Karen stirred, scrunching her eyes closed against the sunlight. A low groan rumbled through her and Frank felt it all the way down to his toes.

“Morning,” he said quietly.

She didn’t respond, and he could see her brain whirring. He had hoped she had had enough to drink to forget, but he could already see she hadn’t. She bit the inside of her cheek and Frank knew he had to do something. They couldn’t do this. Even if they turned around right now and went straight back to the city, it would be unbearable to let this linger between them.

He sat up. “Karen?”

She looked up at him, eyes clouded with whatever she was thinking about the previous night. He couldn’t read her, and it was unsettling. Karen was usually so open, so honest. He didn’t know how to reach her now, but he had to try.

“How you feeling?”

She groaned again, and buried her face in the pillow. “How do you think?”

Frank wanted to ask who had called her so late, but his chest hurt, thinking about what might have happened if they hadn’t, so he didn’t. “Breakfast?”

Karen peeked out at him and nodded. She was watching him carefully, like she was looking for something. Like she expected him to say something else.

He didn’t. He got up, pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt, and padded to the bathroom. When he came back out, Karen was sitting on the edge of the bed in a little skirt that made her legs look ten miles long. She always looked great, and Frank had appreciated her pencil skirts since he met her, but there was something about seeing her like this, day after day. He felt like he was getting a glimpse behind the curtain. He knew Karen. She didn’t lie to him. She told him things about herself. About her past. But she was always put together. Always holding herself together.

But now, she was softer. More fragile. She was still tough. Karen was tough as nails. Nightmares and short skirts didn’t change that. It just made her more real, somehow.

She smiled at him, still a little wary. He jerked his head toward the door and she followed him out.

By the time they got to a diner down the street, she had relaxed a bit, laughing at a dog that was racing down the street, dragging a stumbling little kid behind it. The boy’s parents were running along behind him, trying to catch them both.

Normally, that would have brought the pain right back to Frank, made him think about Frank Junior and the dog he always wanted. Maria had always said no. So had Frank, because Maria said so. But this time, over the sting in his heart, he was struck by the way the sunlight was hitting Karen’s face as she laughed. Her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed in the soft light.

He couldn’t explain how he felt if he tried. It hurt, looking at her. It helped, looking at her. It was like a hurricane in his gut. He felt like he might come apart at the seams if he kept staring at her. He wasn’t sure he cared. He knew he cared too much.

Karen took his arm, looking at him cautiously, like she was afraid she was overstepping. The boundaries between them had always been hard to place, and after last night, the lines were blurrier than ever. The warmth of her hand on his arm steadied him and he nodded at her. She sighed her relief, though she tried to hide it, and Frank hoped it would be enough. It was all he could manage for right now.

She was still smiling when she slid into the booth across from him. They ordered coffee and breakfast, and Karen closed her eyes at the first sip, humming her pleasure. It wasn’t great coffee, but it was necessary.  It was a start.

“Museum today?” Frank said, over a bite of eggs and bacon.

Karen nodded. “Yeah, there’s an exhibit about heroes through history somewhere around here. Thought we could check that out.”

“Sure.” Frank drained his coffee and held up the cup to the waitress to refill it. “Whatever you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fall break is a wonderful thing. I can't guarantee I'll keep getting chapters out this fast going forward, but I hope you enjoyed this new chapter of Frank and Karen not talking about their feelings. Like I said, I'm trying for a real slow burn, so I'm working on that challenge.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are always appreciated. I hope you liked this chapter! :)


	4. could end in burning flames or paradise

Four walls. Light under the crack in the door. A box of ginger snaps. Muffled voices yelling.

Karen blinked. “This is a dream,” she told herself, but she didn’t wake up.

The closet rumbled and shook around her and Karen clutched at the floor like she was going to find something to hold onto. Her nails scraped against the wood so hard they would have bled if it was real.

The walls fell, and she was in a room, dimly lit with a bare lightbulb over a metal table. A gun lay there, and there he was.

James Wesley. Blood seeped through his white shirt, just like it had the last time she saw him. But now, someone else loomed behind him. Someone she recognized, though his face was shrouded in shadows.

He stepped towards her, hands outstretched, and Karen woke with a start. She sat up, cold sweat trickling down her back. She touched her own neck, like she had to make sure the dream wasn’t real. Like she had to make sure this was reality.

Looking down, Frank was there, curled in on himself like he was in pain. He whimpered quietly, and Karen leaned towards him, her heart aching at the sight of him. He was always so strong, he was always holding her together. The least she could do was help him now. Her nightmares were bad enough, and she didn’t have nearly the same demons that Frank did.

She lay back down, molding her body to his and wrapping her arm around him. He jerked at the touch, but he took her hand and held it against his chest. She felt his breathing slow, his heartbeat thumping steadily under her fingers. She breathed him in, pressed her cheek against his back. She was sure neither of them would acknowledge it in the morning, but she needed this as much as he did in that moment, and she wasn’t going to pass it up.

Karen wondered what he was dreaming about. She was sure it was about his kids. His wife. She knew it haunted him, what had happened to them. And how could it not?

“Frank?” she whispered. He grunted. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” His hand tensed around hers. “Do you?”

Karen shook her head so he could feel it between his shoulders. “No,” she breathed.

Neither of them spoke again. All she could hear was their breathing, so loud in the stillness. A siren screamed by outside the window, and Frank stiffened under her touch. Just a bit. Just enough that she could feel it. She squeezed him tighter and he huffed out a breath. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was frustration. She couldn’t be sure. She didn’t know if she could be sure about anything anymore.

They had been almost back to normal, walking through the exhibits of a museum. They could have been anyone. Just a couple on a vacation in Chicago, taking in the sights.

Of course, they were there for a reason. Karen scoured the exhibit for information about Kitty Pryde and Ghost Rider, alongside the Avengers and even a small piece about Daredevil that made her head fill with an unpleasant buzzing.

They had happened upon a museum assistant who was a fan of Karen’s. She said she read every piece she wrote, through the _Bulletin_ website, and asked her to come upstairs to sign something. Karen was flattered, and she hoped it would be a good way to get more information about Chicago’s experiences with superheroes.

Frank had hesitated, but when Karen tugged on his wrist, he followed. He watched the assistant cautiously, like he was waiting for her to turn into a threat. But the twenty-something really just wanted an autograph and to introduce Karen to her boss. Karen couldn’t help but be flattered.

The curator was less impressed, but was at least willing to share what they had with Karen, as long as she made it clear where she had found it. She sank into a chair and flipped through photos and articles and even a few comic books, taking notes and putting pieces together and losing herself in the project, like she always did, until she sat up with a jolt.

“Oh, Frank, I’m sorry,” she said, turning to find him sitting behind her, eyes flicking up to meet hers. She was reminded of the men she used to see at the mall, waiting for their wives, surrounded by shopping bags. It wasn’t quite like that, but close enough that it made her feel a stab of longing she thought she had long since destroyed. “I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” he said, with a half smile. “I like watching you work.”

Karen had blushed at that. She could tell he meant it, but she still felt a pang of guilt for making him sit there and wait for her. She felt a pang of something that felt an awful lot like affection too. Maybe even another word she couldn’t even process right at this moment.

“Shall we?”

He had nodded, and they left. Karen wanted to go to the University of Chicago the next day to see what they had in their archives, and Frank had agreed without a question. Whatever she wanted. It was always whatever _she_ wanted. She wondered what Frank wanted. If he would ever tell her.

“You could go do something else,” Karen had suggested.

“You don’t want me to come with you?” he said, and Karen saw the hurt flash in his eyes.

“No, it’s not that. I just thought you might want to do something else. Something _you_ want to do.” His eyebrows had shot up, and Karen wished she hadn’t said anything. “I just feel bad you have to sit around watching me work.”

“Like I said, I like watching you work.”

And that had been that. They were back to their normal selves, whatever normal meant to them anymore. Frank kept an eye on things, and Karen buried herself in books and files and newspaper articles until her head spun. Normal.

Until now. Until Karen had wrapped her arms around him and held him to her. She wasn’t sure if she was holding him together or herself, but it didn’t matter. He was the sun and she was the moon. They circled each other, never quite close enough to crash together, but moving ever closer. It was only a matter of time until they collided. She hoped it was only a matter of time. She knew she couldn’t keep it from him forever. She couldn’t keep these feelings down forever, not if they slept beside each other and soothed each other’s nightmares. Not if he kept caring about her in the way he did. Not if she kept letting him get closer. Not if that word kept creeping closer to something she might say to him, if she could ever get past the strangling fear of losing him over it.

She knew all that. She held him anyway. She held him until they were both asleep, and she hoped she held him until she chased his ghosts away along with hers.

They were circling closer, and there was nothing to stop it but them.

* * *

Frank slept fitfully. Flashes of bullets and bombs and blonde hair appeared every time he closed his eyes. He had gotten used to nightmares about his family. They died over and over again in his dreams every night.

This was different. He had obviously been in situations where Karen was in danger, but those moments had rarely invaded his dreams before. Now, their moment in the elevator played on a loop in his brain while he slept, followed by tackling her to the floor to shield her from the Blacksmith, followed by beating those two shitbags to death in the diner while she listened in horror. Blood, shrapnel, bullets, police. She deserved more than that. She deserved more than him and all the shit he brought with him. He knew that.

Her arm was still around him when he woke in the morning. Long, pale fingers clutching at his shirt. Holding him there. He would stay until she let him go. He couldn’t do anything else.

She didn’t wake until Frank had been awake for hours, staring at the window. The sliver of sunlight slicing into the room. Slicing through him.

He knew he had taken her on this trip for his own reasons. He hadn’t lied when she had asked him why he did it. She needed a break. She needed sleep. She needed him. Or so he thought. She had called him, after all. She had told him about this book deal.

But he had been the one to suggest the road trip. She hadn’t told him she wanted to go. He had told her to be ready. And she was. She hadn’t complained once about where they went or asked where he was taking her. She seemed ready for the ride as soon as he showed up. She hadn’t questioned it for a second. Her trust was one thing he could always count on. He couldn’t jeopardize that for anything.

Frank swallowed a groan at his own frustration, but Karen stirred, arm clenching around him before releasing him. He felt colder without her pressed against his back. Lonelier.

There was space between them that he couldn’t cross. Not until she did. He had to give her every opportunity to get away from him. To stay away from him. To push him away. Keep him at arm’s length.

It was getting harder and harder to do, though, with them sharing a bed. Sharing a space. Sharing every moment of every day. Karen was tangling herself around his heart and he had to keep reminding himself why that wasn’t a good idea.

Watching her stretch, arms reaching for the headboard, he had a hard time remembering. She smiled up at him and his brain shut off.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, he scurried off to the shower. If she said anything, he was going to fall. He was going to lose whatever control he had and ruin this thing between them. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk her. He was a coward when it came to Karen Page.

Icy water did nothing to stem the flow of thoughts that rushed through his head. Karen, telling him she felt the same way. Karen, gunned down in front of his eyes. Karen, writhing under his touch. Karen, gone forever. Like his family. She was his family now. He had to keep her safe.

Even if that meant keeping her safe from himself. He would hold this inside for the rest of his life, if that’s what it took. He had to find a way to do that.

It didn’t get any easier, though, as he spent the next two days watching Karen do research. She was so expressive when she read, her face scrunching and relaxing as she found out new information. She was so involved in what she was doing, she only ate when he brought her food, but she beamed at him every time he did, and that made it worth it.

“Think I got everything I need,” she said, smiling at the archivist, who had spend those same two days running back and forth and getting Karen all the sources she wanted, without complaint. Frank supposed it made sense that he wasn’t the only one enchanted by her.

He was mostly surprised that he wasn’t jealous. He had a protective streak. Some might even call it possessive. Maria had always teased him about it. Told him it was because he was an only child and never learned to share. He struggled with sharing the people he cared about. That was something he knew about himself.

But with Karen, it was different. She was so open, so friendly, so warm, how could anyone resist her? She wanted to connect, wanted to communicate, and everyone she met responded to that. It made sense. Maria had been that way too. He could never be upset that people wanted to be around her. How could they help themselves? How could he?

He was watching Karen interact with this middle-aged archivist when it struck him again. He cared about Karen. Deeply. She knew that. He knew that, long before she got in the car and drove away from the city with him.

But he wouldn’t have called it love. Before this trip, he wouldn’t have put that word to it. He had compared her to Sarah, when David hadn’t understood. He had called her his family.

And she was. She had been for a long time. Since before he brought her roses. He had stayed away, had given her space, had tried to leave her alone for her sake. But she always pulled him back in.

This trip had made it clearer. The hold she had on him wasn’t just a desire to keep her safe. It wasn’t just that she had helped him and he wanted to help her. It had never really been about that. She was special. She was important. He loved her.

The realization hit him like a truck and he left Karen to finish up while he went outside to catch his breath. He had known for a while. There was no reason for this to stagger him this way.

But it did. She did.

“Pete?” she said quietly, resting on hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t look at her. He felt like a frayed nerve, exposed, vulnerable. How could she not see it?

Frank’s eyes darted around, finally resting on a man standing half a block away. The man was staring at him, and Frank knew that look. He recognized Frank. He knew he was looking at the Punisher, vigilante and fugitive from justice.

“We have to go,” he said, voice harsh as his hand closed around Karen’s upper arm to pull her behind him.

“Pete?” she said again, and he heard the edge of fear in her voice. He hated that sound. He had thought leaving the city would help, but he couldn’t escape. He couldn’t hide behind a beard and longer hair. People knew him, and being with her put her in danger. That was reality.

Karen pulled her arm out of his grasp and stopped dead on the sidewalk. The woman behind her collided with her and muttered a curse about tourists out for a stroll, before pushing past her to keep going on her way.

“Pete,” she said, eyes flashing. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain at the hotel.” She raised an eyebrow. “I promise. Please, Karen.”

She relaxed a little and followed him back to the hotel. He felt her stare burning through him, and he tried his best to focus on the mission. He had to get them out. He had to get her to safety.

“Frank,” she said, as soon as the door closed behind her. His real name trailed off her tongue smoothly. She didn’t have to think about it. Not like she did with Pete. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Someone saw me.”

Her face fell, and he knew he didn’t need to say more. Madani had done her best to make sure no one could track him down, but if someone recognized him, there was nothing stopping the cops from picking him up. Karen started shoving their clothes into bags, not caring whose was whose. It didn’t matter, really. She didn’t know about Madani, but she knew how urgent this was. She knew how dangerous.

“You’re safe, okay?” he said, and she nodded.

“So are you.” There were no tears in her eyes. She looked wild, almost feral. Frank had never seen anything so beautiful.

They made it down to the car and Frank peeled out, tires squealing a little on the pavement in his haste to leave.

It wasn’t until they were out of the city, and back on rural roads, that Frank’s breathing started to slow and the adrenaline ebbed away.

Karen reached over and squeezed his hand. He let her, and let the heat of her hand seep into his skin like a salve.

She was safe. So was he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a tiny amount of research about Chicago-based superheroes, so if I'm wrong about Ghost Rider or Kitty Pryde, please let me know. I just wanted to make Karen's research something deeper than just Avengers and the Netflix series' characters. But if I fucked up, or if you know any other Chicago superheroes, feel free to tell me!
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I wanted to get one more chapter out before the week starts. I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are always so appreciated! Thank you for reading!! :)


	5. even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

Karen was stiff and sore by the time they stopped, in some tiny town off the side of an old highway. Frank’s hands were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel, he had to pry them off, one finger at a time.

She was shaking, she realized. She tried to take a deep breath, but she felt a weight squeezing on her chest like a vice. For one terrible moment back there, she had been afraid again. She had been doing so well keeping her fear at bay. Since they had left the city, it was only when she slept that her shadows overtook her, and for the last week, only when she slept alone.

Frank checked them into a seedy little motel with cash, and Karen wondered where he was getting all this money. There was so much she didn’t know about him when he wasn’t with her. What did he do with his time? Who did he see? Did he work?

Her reporter brain kicked on, almost like her mind was trying to keep her from spiraling out of control with what was happening. If she asked him questions, she could focus on his answers. She could listen. She could block out everything else.

“Frank?” she said softly. He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. He was shaking a little too, she noticed. Just a small tremor in his hands. She knew he’d feel better with a gun in them, but she was glad he hadn’t used one this time. They had gotten away clean, and that made them safer. She knew that. He did too.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, like he was trying to convince himself it was true. “We’re okay.”

“I know,” Karen said. She patted the bed next to her and he joined her, after peering out the window to make sure they weren’t followed. “Can I ask you something?”

He stared at her, in that way he did sometimes, eyes searing through her. She wondered what he saw. “Sure.” His lip curled up in something between a snarl and a smile. “If I can ask you something.”

Karen nodded. She needed to choose her words carefully. “What happened, after?” She swallowed, looking down at her hands, which were twisting in her lap. “After Lewis, I mean?”

Frank didn’t look surprised. He sighed. “You don’t want to know that, Karen.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, Frank.” She had imagined all kinds of terrifying situations, but they had never even grazed the surface of this topic in their handful of meetings in the last six months. They hadn’t talked about it this whole trip. She hadn’t wanted to risk it, but now it seemed too important to leave it alone. “Please tell me.”

Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his head. His hair was long enough now that it tangled under his palm. “You know, Karen.”

“I don’t.” She couldn’t stop now. Even if he was uncomfortable, she had to know. She needed to hear it from him. Sure, she could find out, but that seemed wrong, somehow. Like she would be betraying his trust.

“Got into some more shit. One of my old Marine buddies was working with this CIA scumbag. Billy Russo.” She knew Russo. She had met him that day in the hotel. “I let them catch up with me to help the Liebermans out.” He stood and began to pace. He was agitated now. Karen knew she should tread carefully, but she pushed forward anyway.

“The Liebermans?” Karen said slowly. That name was familiar too. She had found it for Frank in the first place, after all. “Micro?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. His wife and boy got kidnapped. I let Rawlins and Russo take me to get them back to David.”  
“Take you?”

He nodded again, shoulders rolling back. “I’d do it again, too. Those scumbags weren’t going to hurt Sarah and Zach. Not if I could do something about it.”

The growl in his voice made Karen shiver. She remembered this Frank. The snarling, rage-filled shadow she had met in the hospital. She had known that this Frank was still in there, but it had been so long since she had seen him like this, she had almost forgotten the animalistic fire that fueled him.

“What did they do to you?”

“Come on, Karen,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re smarter than that. Don’t make me spell it all out for you.”

She blushed. He was right. She had been around this shit for long enough to be able to guess. She didn’t need Frank to relive it. She could see it in his eyes. That pain didn’t go away. It was a scar as much as anything on his skin. “How did you get away?”

“Madani helped me. Lieberman, too. Got me out. Patched me up. Gave me some money.”

“And?”

“And I finished it.”

“Madani just let you go?” Karen couldn’t believe that. The feisty, driven Homeland agent hadn’t seemed like the type to let bygones be bygones when she was interrogating Karen in the conference room of DHS.

“Yeah, after I kept her from bleeding out, she helped me stay dead. Russo shot her in the head, but she survived. She wiped me from the system. Fingerprints, mugshots, everything.” From the set of his face, Karen could tell he wasn’t going to give her anything else.

“So that’s how you can be here? That’s why no one has stopped you?”

He nodded, and his dark eyes met hers. “Been working construction since then. It helps. Keeps my mind off things.” Karen bit her lip. His eyes darted down to watch the movement. “My turn.”

Karen shivered again. She knew he didn’t mean it like that, but there was a heat in his gaze that scared her a little. Or, at least, that’s what she told herself when her heart started to flutter wildly in her chest. She couldn’t quite admit that it excited her, too. Not when he was right there, in front of her. Close enough to touch.

“What do you want to know, Frank?” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. She had already revealed more than she usually did, when they were alone in the hospital. When they were in the diner. When she was lying beside him in bed.

“Tell me about your nightmares,” he said, but it was a request, not a command. Frank never forced her to do anything. He could, she knew. He had done it to others. But never to her. She knew he wouldn’t. He sat down again, his leg warm against hers.

She squirmed. She didn’t even know where to start. “You have them too. What are yours about?”

He shook his head minutely. She wasn’t getting out of this that easily. She was sure she knew what his nightmares were about, anyway. She was just trying to stall.

“There are things in my past that I’d rather forget,” she said, and she knew that wouldn’t be enough either. He nodded at her to continue. “You know how we talked about my brother the other day?” Frank’s eyebrows shot up and he nodded again. “He died. When I was eighteen. That’s why I left Vermont.”

“What happened?”

“There was an accident. I was driving.” Karen’s voice caught in her throat. “There was a drunk driver. Swerved and hit us.” She swallowed. Frank scowled. Karen hadn’t talked about this to anyone since Vermont. Since the last time the cops questioned her. “The drunk driver was my dad,” Karen said, taking a shaky breath. Frank’s scowl deepened. “He was in the bars all the time. My mom never knew when he’d be home, or what condition he’d be in when he got there. She begged the cops not to press charges against him, even after he killed my brother. She was too scared to do anything that might set him off. He still beat the shit out of her when he got out.”

“Jesus,” Frank snarled, and his trigger finger twitched. “What happened to your dad?”

Karen shuddered and bit back the surge of bile that flooded the back of her throat. “He was killed when his gun went off unexpectedly a few days after the cops released him.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, and she had a feeling he knew why. “That’s what the police said, anyway.”

“What about your mom?”

Karen felt the rush of emotion that always accompanied talking about her mom. Anger. Frustration. A deep sadness that never quite went away. “She couldn’t deal with what had happened. She killed herself a couple of months later. So now, it’s just me.”

Frank didn’t speak again. He was waiting for her. That was the thing about Frank. He always knew what she needed from him.

“Sometimes I have dreams about Fisk, too” she said, clearing her throat. He had asked, and she was going to answer. Might as well get it all out of the way at once.

“Me too,” he admitted. She filed that away as something to ask him about later. She had never had proof that Fisk had helped Frank escape, but her gut told her there was a connection there. Her gut wasn’t often wrong.

“Sometimes I wonder how long it will take him to track me down once he gets out of prison. Not long, I’d imagine.”

Frank tensed, and she wished she could stop the torrent of words, but now that she had started, she couldn’t stop.

“Why would he come after you?” Frank said quietly, considering her carefully.

“I was on the legal team that sent him away,” Karen said, and Frank’s head tilted, like he was waiting for the next part. He knew there was more, and she found she wanted to tell him. He had always been smarter than anyone gave him credit for. “His assistant kidnapped me. He tried to blackmail me. Threatened me and everyone I cared about.” She swallowed hard. She had never talked about that night before. She stared down at the floor, like that would make it easier to say it. “I shot him. With his own gun. He left it on the table in front of me. I killed him.” When she managed to look at him again, Frank’s eyes were gentle. Warm. Why had she been so scared to tell him? He, of all people, understood.

Silence fell again and Karen realized she wasn’t shaking anymore. She could feel her feet on the floor, Frank’s warm body beside her, and she wasn’t afraid. She was here. She was alive. She was going to stay that way.

So was he, if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

Frank didn’t know what he had expected when he asked her. Or rather, he did know what he expected, and it wasn’t what she ended up telling him. He thought it would be about Red, and those ninjas that had kidnapped her. Being held as a hostage by Lewis. Being shot at. Used as bait. Used to lure vigilantes. The things he knew about.

But there she was, sitting there with her shoulders thrown back, like she was daring the world to challenge her after she confessed what really haunted her. He wouldn’t dare.

That was the thing about Karen. Every time he thought he knew her, she surprised him. He knew he had seen ghosts in those blue eyes before, but it made sense now, why she had helped him. Why she seemed so familiar, even when they first met. Why she fought so hard to protect people. Why she didn’t seem to care about protecting herself. Why she cared about him. Why she always understood him better than anyone else.

She was a fighter. He had known that for a long time. At least since she shoved a photo in his face and forced him to remember his family. Definitely since she had called him an asshole and tried to pull him back from the edge when he was determined to plummet over it to avenge his family.

But this was different. She was different. She was more like him than he had ever thought, and that made his chest tighten painfully. No wonder they kept crashing together. They were mirror images, refracting the light and shadows in each other until it was impossible to tell which was which.

He didn’t know what to say. He knew she didn’t need him to say anything. She didn’t need his forgiveness. She wasn’t asking for that. She knew he understood. He wouldn’t judge her, like that choir boy lawyer or his friend.

Frank took her hand and squeezed it, just once. Karen’s eyes were glossy, but there were still no tears on her cheeks.

They didn’t talk about it any more, but Frank locked his arms around her instantly when they got into bed for the night. If he held her a little closer than usual, she didn’t seem to mind.

In the morning, Frank decided that he didn’t care for being in the middle of nowhere in this little town. Too many curious eyes on them when they went to the diner for breakfast. In a city, in crowds of nameless faces, it was much easier to stay anonymous.

Karen didn’t have another destination in mind, so Frank just drove, following the roads through apparently endless fields of corn and soy.

“I can drive for a while,” Karen said gently, when they stopped at a gas station and Frank winced a little too obviously when he popped his spine back into alignment. The Mustang looked cool, but he was getting old to drive all day like this. The place they stopped the previous night hadn’t been as comfortable as their set-up in Chicago, either.

“No need, ma’am,” he said, the word falling from his lips before he thought about it. Karen’s eyes narrowed for half a second. Interesting.

“Okay, sir,” she said, lingering on the ‘sir’ longer than strictly necessary. The involuntary tremble that shot through him didn’t mean anything. She was just teasing. Poking at his need to be polite. Poking at the distance he created by acting like her name wasn’t as important as it was. Like he could talk to her like anyone else. Like she wasn’t the most central person in his life at this moment. Like she wasn’t a person that sparked something inside him that he hadn’t been sure he could feel anymore.

She didn’t look angry, but he could feel the coiled energy in her as she folded her long legs back into the seat. He knew she didn’t like not being in control. He knew that she trusted him. He knew that he would take her wherever she wanted to go. He knew that, if she asked again, he’d let her drive.

When he looked over again, after fiddling with the radio to find a station not chopped up by static, she was asleep. He knew she hadn’t slept well the previous night, despite his best efforts to pull her close enough to keep the nightmares out. She had been so frantic, cries vibrating out of her body and through his, that he had pressed his lips against the top of her head, over and over again, when nothing else worked to calm her down. Now that he knew what was chasing her, he wanted more than ever to protect her. No matter what she had done, what she had been through, she was still Karen. Still tough. Still strong. Still so, so deeply good that she had seen the good in him when no one else could.

Now, she was so wrung out she was limp on the seat, long limbs splayed out in front of her. Her face was finally relaxed, breathing slow and steady. Frank turned down the radio and tried not to watch her too closely. He couldn’t handle that and keep the car on the road. He knew that.

Just as he had the thought, he heard a hissing sound and saw smoke rising from under the hood. Karen sat up, pushing her hair out of her face, concern in her blue eyes, as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. Gravel crunched under the tires, pinging against the sides of the car he had painstakingly kept clean and intact all this time. It was the first thing he had bought with the money Lieberman had given him. Lieberman had teased him about it as soon as he saw it, but Frank didn’t care. He climbed out of the car with a groan and popped the hood to see what had happened.

He was just leaning over the engine to take a look, when he saw a pair of worn flats lined up next to his boots.

“You know cars?” he said, looking over his shoulder at her.

“No,” Karen said. “But I didn’t want to just sit in the car while you fixed it.”

Frank smiled. It didn’t take long to figure it out, and Frank rolled up his sleeves to get in there and reattach the hose that had blown. He could feel Karen’s eyes on him. It didn’t surprise him that she didn’t want to just sit there and wait on him. That wasn’t Karen. She watched everything he did, like she wanted to file it away to do it herself next time, and that shouldn’t have been surprising either. She was like a sponge, soaking up information about everyone and everything around her. He had watched her do research for three days in Chicago and he didn’t know how her brain didn’t explode. He was sure, if she ever blew a hose in her engine, she’d remember this and know how to fix it for sure. There was a reason Karen rarely needed help from him or anyone else.

“Fixed?” she said, when he stood up again, wiping his hands on his jeans.

He nodded, and her eyes traced over his body, like she was trying to commit that to memory too, grease staining his fingers and sweat beading on his forehead from the steam. He wondered at that, but pushed it down. Every time a thought like that came up, he pushed it down. She was just stir crazy. She was just lonely. She was just stuck with him. She didn’t want him the way he wanted her.

But the look in her eyes told him maybe she wasn’t. And maybe she did.

He kept his eyes on the road until the next time they stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what we're going to find out about Karen's backstory in Daredevil season 3, but this is my interpretation of the hints we have about her past to this point. We might find out that I'm totally off-base, but it is what it is.
> 
> Anyway, kudos and comments are always appreciated and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. There will be smut, of a sort, coming soon, but for now, enjoy all the angst and unresolved tension these two always bring with them. :)


	6. i pretend you're mine all the damn time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder to check the tags and the updated rating. Smut (sort of) ahead! If that's not your thing, turn back now.

Karen’s dreams that night were as far from nightmares as she could imagine. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen anything as hot as Frank, streaked in grease from an engine, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off his back, muscles bunching under his shirt, or off his ass, in those jeans that were just unfair. She knew he saw her staring, but she couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t the first time she had dreamed about Frank, but it was the first time it had happened with him lying right beside her. She had told him everything about her past, and it hadn’t changed anything. Actually, it had brought them closer. She couldn’t honestly say she was surprised. If she had to think of one person who would understand what she had done, and why she had done it, she had always known it would be Frank.

It was rare for her to be awake before him, but she could tell from his breathing he was still out cold. She shifted a little and felt something against her. She froze.

Karen knew it was probably just from a dream he was having. He was probably thinking of his wife. Or it was just a normal biological thing. It had nothing to do with her.

But oh, she wished it did. She wished he would touch her, those big hands sliding over her skin, instead of just wrapping around her waist protectively in sleep. She bit her lip to hold back the groan that bubbled up when Frank tightened his hold on her, pressed her back against him harder.

She closed her eyes and tried to slow the pace of her heartbeat. He didn’t mean it. He was sleeping. He didn’t want her like that. It wasn’t fair for her to put this on him. Whatever she thought she saw in his eyes when he looked at her was in her head. He had a wife. He had chosen Maria. He was just confused in his sleep. They were just spending so much time together. They just needed each other.

He mumbled something that sounded like her name, breath tickling the back of her neck. His hips pressed into her ass and she couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of here before he did something she knew he would regret. She wouldn’t regret it. She couldn’t ever regret him. But she knew he would. She had to protect him.

She slid out from under his arm and fled to the bathroom. She heard him waking up, and she knew the sleepy look that would be on his face without even looking at him. She had seen it for over a week now. His hair would be messy and he would smile gently at her, wish her a good morning. She couldn’t do it today. She wasn’t sure what she had heard, but she had to stop wishing for something that he didn’t want. Not really. Whatever happened in his dreams, he couldn’t control that any more than she could. But he didn’t want her. Not like that. Not really. She knew that.

Karen turned the water on and let the steam fill the room. A cold shower wasn’t going to fix this. There was only one thing she could think of that would relieve the tension she was feeling. Maybe if she found release, she could stop acting like a lovestruck teenager with her first crush.

She froze as the thought crossed her mind. As much as her dreaming mind wanted Frank to fuck her over the hood of the Mustang, when she was awake, she knew she wanted him to make love to her. Slowly, gently, like she knew he could.

Karen stepped under the stream of water and let the thoughts wash over her at the same time. She could picture it. The door opening and Frank walking through it. Shedding his shirt and boxer-briefs to join her in the shower. His fingers, rough and callused, tracing over her ribcage and down to her hips to pull her against him. He would be hard and ready for her, kissing her neck and her collarbone and gathering her hair in one big hand. She tilted her head, almost able to feel his mouth, warm against her skin.

She let one hand trail over her breasts, nipples hardening even as she wished it was Frank’s hand touching her. Her hand pushed lower, through the thatch of blonde curls to press against her clit. She was wet. She knew she would be. She had been for days, if she was being honest.

She wondered if Frank would go down on her. She thought he would. She could imagine him, on his knees in front of her, hair plastered to his forehead from the water. His hands were so big, he could almost wrap each one around her thighs. She fell back against the wall, imagining Frank opening her up with his tongue. A low moan rumbled out of her, and she hoped the water was loud enough to cover it. Even the mortification of Frank hearing her wasn’t enough to stop her now.

Karen’s head rested against the wall of the shower, eyes clenched shut while she pictured Frank, body pressing her against the wall, hands pulling her as close as possible. She pressed her fingers against her clit, circling harder and harder until she felt every muscle in her body tense as she came with a sob.

She let the tears fall, let all the emotions out. She had hoped that getting herself off would be enough to stem the tide of her feelings, but thinking about it just made it worse. Now that she had opened the door to thinking about Frank like this, she wasn’t sure she could stop. She didn’t want to just hook up with Frank. She wanted him. All of him. And she didn’t know if he could do that.

She didn’t know if she could either.

* * *

Frank knew, when he woke up, that something was wrong. Karen had practically run to the bathroom to get away from him. What had happened while he was sleeping? What had he done? What had he said?

He realized he had a _situation_ after a moment, but he hoped that wasn’t what had sent her running. The last thing he wanted was for her to go back to nightmares and that terror that had chased her for so long, just to avoid touching him.

He heard the water running and ran a hand over his face. He had been having such a good dream. He was used to having nightmares, having all the worst moments of his life played out again in front of his eyes.

But this was something else. This was Karen, lying beside him, nothing between them but skin. Her body, so soft and warm against his. Her lips, her tongue, opening to him, letting him in. Her hair, tangled in his fingers. His hands, leaving a trail of goosebumps over her breasts, her ribcage, her hips.

He couldn’t pretend he had never dreamed about her like that, but it lingered this time, like the scent of her shampoo on the pillowcase.

The water was still running, and Frank took the opportunity to push his hand under the waistband of his boxer-briefs and take himself in hand. His palm was rougher than hers would be, but it would have to do for now. He had to take care of this before she got out of the shower. He had to relieve the tension. He didn’t know how he would be able to interact with her if he didn’t.

He wondered how Karen would be, if they ever got to that point. If she would be shy and blushing, or if she would take charge and tell him what she wanted. Demand that he obey her. He didn’t care. In this moment, he wanted her, however she would give herself to him. If she ever did. If he ever let her get that close.

He closed his eyes and imagined Karen’s slim fingers closing around him. In his mind, she stroked him delicately, just enough pressure to make him groan, but not enough to bring him release.

Frank thought of her, crawling down between his legs, pressing kisses to his torso, his hipbones, his thighs. Pressing those pink lips against all the scars on his body and healing them. She was magic. He knew that.

He spit on his hand and slicked it over the head of his cock. He was leaking all over his hand, as he imagined Karen touching the tip of her tongue to him, taking him in her mouth. She was always so warm, so fiery, he was sure her mouth would be hot enough to burn in the best ways. His grip tightened and his fist slid down his length while he thought of Karen teasing him, going as slowly as she could, pulling moans out of him.

He choked back the sound, but he was already so close. The water turned off in the shower and he knew he didn’t have long. He stroked faster, fisting his erection as tightly as he could, squeezing until it was almost painful.

The image of Karen’s lips wrapped around his cock flew back into the front of his mind and he came with a grunt, spilling all over his belly and fist.

He looked down at himself and felt the beginnings of guilt. The beginnings of shame. He cleaned himself up with his shirt and hurried to put on some clean clothes before Karen emerged. He had already made her uncomfortable enough to flee from the bed before he was even awake. And now, he had just jerked off to the thought of her giving him a blow job.

It had been so long since he had done this, or even thought about it. He hadn’t been able to think of anything but his all-consuming rage for a long time. When the thought had occurred to him, it was Maria’s face he saw, and then he would switch back to anger, guilt, fear, grief. He couldn’t remember the last time he had orgasmed. He had never even thought of another woman. It had felt too much like betraying Maria.

Until Karen. Until now. He hadn’t been sure he could feel like this anymore, but now that he knew he could, he had to keep that to himself. She deserved someone who wasn’t broken. Who wasn’t damaged and scarred and royally fucked up. Who didn’t have to pretend to be dead, just so he could go about his life.

It wasn’t even about Maria. Not really. He could almost hear Curt reminding him that Maria would want him to be happy. Not shut himself away forever. He thought she and Karen could have been friends, in another world. He thought Maria would like Karen. He knew Karen would like Maria. The thought hurt, but in a different way than he expected.

Karen deserved the world. He would do anything to give it to her. He would die for her. But he couldn’t ask this of her. Not when it clearly made her feel weird around him. Whatever had happened by the car had just been a fluke. She didn’t want this. He shouldn’t either.

He would just keep protecting her. Keep helping her. That was enough. The fact that she let him be around her at all was more than enough.

When she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, he had to remind himself over the roaring in his ears.

She deserved more than he could give her. She wasn’t his. As much as he wanted her, he knew that. Karen was off-limits. She had to be. Even if it made his heart break to look at her. Even if he ached to touch her, to soothe her, to taste her.

He couldn’t have her. He knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling like I needed to inject a little more angst and smut into this story, because of course that's what this story needs. So, here's a smutty chapter to hold us over for the next couple of hours until Daredevil season 3 drops. It's going to be a while still until they actually act on these feelings with each other, but I thought this would be a nice break in all the pining. ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are, as always, appreciated. You guys are the best!


	7. just keep on keeping your eyes on me

It was quiet in the car, that day. Karen didn’t know what to say, and from the looks of it, Frank didn’t either. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass him by drawing attention to it, but he knew. She could tell. She wondered how long they could keep doing this. They had been on this trip just over a week and she was already at her breaking point. If she wasn’t careful, it was all going to spill out, and they were miles from anywhere at this point.

She didn’t have a next destination in mind, and Frank didn’t say, but the glint in his dark eyes told her he had an idea. She knew he would tell her if she asked, but she didn’t. She didn’t need to know. She trusted him. He would take her where she needed to go. Where _they_ needed to go.

It wasn’t until they were deep into Texas that Frank spoke.

“Been to Austin?” Karen shook her head as he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel. “Me neither. Lieberman won’t shut up about it.”

Karen smiled. It was nice to hear Frank talk about someone like they were friends. Even if they had become friends under strange circumstances, she was glad he had someone to give him travel recommendations.

“He tell you any good places to go?” This was good. She wanted things to be normal between them. She wanted to stop feeling so weird around him. She wanted to stop feeling like he felt awkward with her.

“My phone’s been buzzing all day, so I bet he texted me a few.” He pulled out his phone and Karen watched him scroll through the messages. She wondered if Micro had been watching them, or if Frank had reached out, looking for good places to take her. It didn’t matter. Not really.

“A few? How long are we staying?” She was laughing. So was he.

“As long as we like, ma’am.”

“That fits, down here,” Karen said. “Ma’am.” The word sounded strange in her mouth. “Still prefer you just use my name.”

Frank nodded. “Understood.” He bit back the instinct and Karen squeezed his arm.

“Good.”

His eyes flashed with something and Karen looked away. She wasn’t getting drawn back into that. It had been hard enough to get back to this place. The last thing she needed was to get lost in her fantasies again.

Especially when the reality was so sweet. Frank opened the door for her and she took his offered hand to stand up. Her legs were getting stiff from sitting in the car so much. She didn’t mind. Not really. It meant being closer to Frank, and that could only be a good thing.

The rooms were all starting to look the same. A bed, a bathroom, a window. This one was in an historic hotel, though, and the windows had those great, Southern shutters over them. She felt like she was in an old movie.

Her gunslinger wouldn’t meet her eyes now. She saw him edging back towards the door almost as soon as it closed behind him.

“Want to go start hitting those places Lieberman sent you?” she said, forcing her face into what she thought was a natural smile.

Frank’s brow relaxed a fraction, but his eyes made her smile falter slightly. He nodded, and she followed him back out, watching as he double-checked that the door was locked. The encounter in Chicago had made him extra wary. She found she didn’t mind.

Karen fell immediately in love with Austin. The streets were teeming with music and art and food and life. It was nothing like New York and she wondered how they could be in the same universe, much less the same country.

She kept stopping as they walked down the street, to look at interesting murals or check out an art gallery. Frank wasn’t frustrated, exactly, but Karen eventually took his hand, so he wouldn’t keep losing her in a crowd and looking around with that panicked grimace on his face. Every time it happened, Karen felt his fear like a spike through her heart. He didn’t want to lose her. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. He cared about her.

But she still didn’t know if he felt the same way she did, and that was beginning to drive her nuts. He didn’t protest, when she took his hand, and that felt like a small victory. It also felt like a small defeat, against the very reasonable voice in her head that kept telling her not to hope for this.

His hand was much bigger than hers. It enveloped hers completely. Warm, a little rough. Just like Frank. She twined her fingers with his and let herself imagine, for just a moment, that it wasn’t just a safety issue. That it wasn’t just so he could keep track of her. That it was what he wanted.

And maybe it was, she realized, when she caught him looking down at their hands, a tiny smile on his face. Just a quirk of his lips that wasn’t a scowl or a snarl. That felt like a victory too.

They went into a tiny coffee shop that was crammed to the rafters with hipsters chattering about some secret show happening that night. They ordered coffees, and turned right back around. The weather was too beautiful to sit inside, anyway.

They found a tiny park with flowerbeds covered in all shades of pink and purple and white, and sat down on a bench. Karen breathed in the fresh air and felt all her tension ebb away.

Frank muttered comments about the people walking by, just loud enough that Karen could hear him.

“See, I thought about going full manbun, but I’m not sure I could pull it off. What do you think?”

Karen giggled. “Not sure your hair is long enough.”

“What a shame. Guess I’ll have to wait. ”

They were back. Back to how they usually were. Back to where she wanted them to be. Or at least closer to it. Back to where they could both handle whatever was happening and keep going. Back to a place that might lead to somewhere else.

Wherever that might be.

* * *

Frank loved hearing Karen laugh. He loved being the one who made her laugh. He could talk shit about hipsters all day if it made her throw her head back like that. If it made her keep looking at him like that.

His heart stuttered in his chest, just looking at her. He wasn’t sure if he could hide it anymore. Pretend that he didn’t want her like that. And he wasn’t sure he was succeeding now, but she didn’t seem to mind. She wasn’t running away. She was holding his hand. She was leaning closer, to hear him better.

Frank took a deep breath and a sip of coffee. He thought it would center him. Clear his head. All it did was fill his lungs with her perfume. With Karen.

It did center him. It reminded him why he was in Texas, of all places. Why he was going to keep driving. Why he was doing all of this.

It was for her. He would do anything Karen asked. He would do anything for her, even if she didn’t ask. He wanted her to be safe and happy and whole. Even if that meant he had to let her go, when this was all over. He could do that.

But for now, she was still here. She stood, tugging on his hand to drag him towards one of the barbecue places Lieberman had told him to try. He had chosen to ignore the lewd emojis David had chosen to attach to the message. She didn’t need to know about that.

It was just the kind of place Frank liked. Dirty, messy, a little smoky. He glanced at Karen, but he should have known. It was just the kind of place she liked too, if her messy hands and the sauce all over her face were any indication.

“This is so good,” she said, taking a huge gulp of her beer. Frank nodded, and she dove back in to eating her brisket and ribs.

And that was part of why Frank loved her. She wasn’t just a beautiful, pulled together reporter in a pencil skirt and pumps. She was also a woman who would roll up her sleeves and dig in at a barbecue place that had paper towels for napkins. She was a woman who had nightmares but didn’t let it stop her. She was a woman who would go on a crazy trip like this and turn it into a book for everyone. She was a woman who would challenge him when he needed it. She was a woman who wasn’t afraid to hold his hand. Hold him. She was everything, all together and all at once. It was dizzying. It was Karen. It was electrifying.

They ended up having another beer, before giving up their spots at the picnic table to a couple that couldn’t take their hands off each other. Frank tried not to stare at them. Tried not to wonder if that’s how it would be, with them. He knew it wouldn’t. Because she wasn’t his. They weren’t like that.

His hand twitched at his side, until Karen took it in hers. Music was blaring from most of the bars, but she was on a mission. She pushed through the people in their way and Frank looked up to see the sign for an ice cream place.

He raised his eyebrows at her and her face burst into a smile that shone like the sun. “This wasn’t on the list.”  
“I know. I don’t care.” She pulled him inside and bought him an ice cream. Rocky Road. It seemed appropriate.

Karen got something called “Unicorn Magic.” It was a rainbow concoction that honestly looked revolting to Frank, but the hums of delight coming out of Karen were enough to tell him he was wrong. Her pink tongue poked out to lick the cone and Frank forced himself to focus on his own ice cream. He couldn’t let his mind wander back to his dream. Not now. Not when they were finally back to whatever normal looked like for them.

He had scraped the bottom of his bowl before he looked up again. Karen was watching him now, cheeks flushed. He wondered, for the thousandth time this trip, what she was thinking about. If that look in her eyes meant what he thought it meant.

He hoped it did. He hoped it didn’t. He didn’t know what he would do if she offered him what he wanted. He didn’t know if he had it in him to turn her away.

For now, he wasn’t going anywhere, except where she led him. She didn’t seem at all inclined to go back to the room, pulling him instead towards the nearest bar. This one was on the list, and David had told Frank to make sure they tried one of the bar’s famous cocktails.

Frank ordered something with whiskey. Karen got vodka. The bartender figured out the rest, and the results weren’t bad. They sipped their drinks at the bar, and Frank watched other people watch them.

Or rather, watch Karen. She was hard to miss. She rarely wore jeans, but they fit her like a second skin, and he couldn’t blame the other men in the bar for noticing the way they hugged her curves. He couldn’t blame them, but he still wanted to punch them until they stopped ogling her. It was different than the clerk at the archive. That guy had been charmed by her, but he just wanted to help her get what she needed. Frank could understand that, respect that. These men were looking at her like she was a piece of meat. She was so much more than they could ever even imagine. He clenched his hand around his glass and drained it, trying to hold down the beast raging inside him that wanted to turn their faces into bloody pulps. Even if she was his, Karen wouldn’t want that.

And she wasn’t his.

He noticed, though, that no matter how many of those men came up and offered to buy her a drink, ignoring the man sitting right beside her, she turned them all down. She turned her body towards Frank, stirring her drink absently while they talked. She had hardly even had any of it, though she said it tasted good. It was almost like she wanted to keep it full, so men would stop offering.

But that was crazy. Frank knew that. There was no reason for her to do that. She could have any man she wanted. And she should.

He almost told her to take one of the drinks, dance with one of the men, but there was a fire in her eyes that told him he wouldn’t get very far doing that. She had never liked being told what to do. He didn’t get the feeling she was going to start now.

She might not be his, but she was with him tonight, and no one was going to change that. Frank smiled to himself. Maybe that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, friends. Daredevil season 3 really got me going, so I'm working on some new ideas in addition to this. I'm going to try to keep posting regularly here, but just as a heads up. The lack of Frank in season 3 was sad, and we all know fic is the way to fix it. :)


	8. your eyes look like coming home

Karen noticed, as she slowly finished her second drink, that Frank was touching her. Not in a sexual way. Just his hand between her shoulder blades, warm and strong. The men who had been approaching her all night suddenly disappeared, and Karen wondered if that’s why he did it. If Frank, stoic and impossible to read Frank, _her_ Frank who wasn’t _her_ Frank, was actually jealous.

He didn’t look jealous. He didn’t sound it either. He was smiling. He was talking. He was laughing.

Karen didn’t care, even if he was. She like his hand there. It grounded her, made her feel safe in this strange city. Just like when she slept, Frank kept the shadows at bay.

“You still with me, Miss Page?” he said, slipping back into formality. Karen wondered if it had something to do with how close they were now. How much closer they were than before. Physically and in all the other ways. Frank knew her in ways no one else did. She felt like she knew him, too. Not all of him, but more than before. She knew what kind of toothpaste he used. What his voice sounded like when he sang along to the radio. What his eyes looked like when they first opened in the morning.

“Yes, Mister Castiglione,” she said, rolling her eyes at his chosen name. She hated the sound of it. It didn’t suit him. But she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t risk him. She wouldn’t.

“Ready to go?”

She wasn’t, but she could tell he was. His hand fell away from her back and she took it, leading him out of the bar without looking back at him. She felt eyes on them as they left, but she didn’t care. Let people think what they wanted.

Karen was a little dizzy when she lay down, but it was nothing a little water wouldn’t cure. As if he could read her thoughts, and she really hoped he couldn’t, Frank brought her a glass when he padded out of the bathroom on his bare feet. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing him like this. It had been a week and it still tugged at her heart every time she saw him in his boxer-briefs and shirt. She was sure she could count on one hand the number of people who had seen Frank like this. Soft, vulnerable, gentle.

His arm slid around her and the breath went out of her lungs. She was tipsy enough to trail her fingers along his forearm. It was solid under her touch, just like the rest of him. Karen closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She really did.

But Frank wasn’t sleeping. She had slept beside him long enough now to know how he sounded when he slept, and this wasn’t it. It didn’t sound like he was breathing, either. He was holding his breath as much as she was. Karen didn’t quite know what to make of that.

So, she ignored it, or tried to. “Frank,” she whispered.

“Yeah, Karen?” His voice rumbled through the darkness, vibrating through her body.

“Thank you.” She didn’t know why she was saying it now, but it needed to be said. It was easier to say than the other things she needed to tell him. She had to start somewhere.

“For what?”

“For convincing me to do this. You were right. I needed to get out of the city, but I couldn’t see it.” It was true. She had been working herself to death. She knew that. She also knew why. 

“I needed it too,” he said, and Karen squeezed his hand.

“Good. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

Silence fell heavily between them. Karen didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. Nothing she would be able to say, now. She dared to snuggle a little closer to Frank, and the warmth of him around her was enough to help her drift off to an uneasy sleep.

In the morning, Frank was nowhere to be seen. The bathroom door was open. The room was dark. He hadn’t left her side since they had left the city. She didn’t sense that anything was wrong, though. There was no sign of anyone breaking in. Frank’s jacket was gone. So was his gun, which he usually left on the bedside table on his side of the bed.

His side of the bed. Jesus. If she had thought, two weeks ago, if she would ever know which side of the bed was Frank’s, she would have thought she was losing her mind. She still wasn’t totally sure she wasn’t. Nothing about this trip was normal. Everything about this trip had become a new normal.

The door to the room opened after a few minutes, revealing Frank, hood pulled up to hide his face, paper bag clutched in one hand and a tray of coffees in the other.

“Good morning,” Karen said, sitting up on the bed to take one of the coffees. Frank had put in plenty of cream and two sugars. Just how she liked it. He knew how she liked her coffee.

She filed that one away, and peered into the paper bag to find an almond croissant and a lemon blueberry scone.

“Wasn’t sure which one you’d want,” Frank said, pushing off his hood and rubbing a hand over his hair. “I can go get something else,” he mumbled, when she didn’t choose immediately.

“I like both of these things,” Karen said, smiling at him. “So give me a minute.”

Frank chuckled under his breath, and took the bag back when she pulled out the scone. It was flaky and crumbly and so good. With a sip of coffee, she thought it might be the best thing she had eaten all trip.

Frank had settled at the little table in the corner. His eyes were on her, over the rim of his cup, and there was a flake of croissant trapped in his beard. Karen wanted to go over to him and brush it away, but she focused on her own breakfast instead.

It seemed silly, she knew. They were so comfortable around each other now. He knew how she took her coffee. She knew how he liked his burgers. He held her to keep their nightmares away. She curled into him to ease his mind and hers.

But that was different. That was necessary. She didn’t have to bridge this gap. She didn’t have to touch him when they weren’t in a crowd or trying to sleep. She didn’t have to press her body against his, feel his lips against hers.

And she couldn’t ask that of him. That wasn’t why he was here. It wasn’t why she was here, either, if she was being honest. It was just a thought that itched at the back of her mind that she knew she couldn’t scratch. If he wanted her, he was going to have to do something about it. She couldn’t push this on him. She wouldn’t.

So, she would eat her scone and wait. Possibly forever, for something that might never come.

It was worth it. So was he.

* * *

Frank couldn’t keep his eyes off Karen. He hadn’t even noticed when it had started, but she was constantly in his field of vision. Even when she was behind a closed door, he could see her in his mind.

For all his big talk to himself, Frank wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand this without cracking. He had woken up early and taken great pains to get out of the room without waking her, just so he could bring her something sweet from a bakery Lieberman swore by. The coffee wasn’t bad either.

He had ordered it without thinking about it. He had seen her order her coffee enough times to know how she took it. He didn’t know how she could stand all that sugar and cream, but then, he had started drinking coffee in the army. Not exactly a place with a lot of options. If she wanted half her coffee to be sugar and cream, that’s what he would get her.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Karen said, licking icing off her thumb.

Frank shrugged. “We can stick around here another day, or keep driving. Up to you.”

Karen smiled, head tilting to the side. “What do _you_ want to do, Frank? Stay here, or keep driving?”

He was lost. Why was she looking at him like that? He would do whatever she wanted. That was how this worked. That was always how this worked.

She stood, crumpling the paper bag in her hand and tossing it in the trash before crossing the room to sit across from him. Her fingers drummed on the table while she watched him watch her.

“I want to know what you want to do, Frank. I’m not making a decision until you tell me what you think we should do today.”

Frank was surprised, and from the way Karen’s eyes softened, she could tell. He swallowed and looked down at his coffee cup. “Uh, I don’t know,” he mumbled. He wasn’t used to this kind of focused attention on him. Even from Karen. He could make decisions. He was good at it. He had to be, doing what he did. But this was different. Telling Karen what he wanted was something he didn’t know how to do.

“Come on, Frank. What do you want to do, right now?”

He focused on keeping his breathing steady. She didn’t know what she was asking. She didn’t know that he was fighting every instinct in his body to cover her hand with his, pull her towards him, and kiss her.

That wasn’t an option. That wasn’t what she meant. He had to focus. He had to give her an answer. He wouldn’t disappoint her.

“Keep driving, I guess.”

“Then let’s go.” She stood again, gathering their things that were scattered around the room and shoving them into her bag. Frank had found that her things had mixed completely with his at this point, so they were living out of each other’s bags, as much as their own. He didn’t want to think about that too hard. Not now.

They drove. Frank wondered what Karen would have chosen, but she didn’t seem bothered by his decision. She rolled down the window and leaned into the warm breeze while they drove through the straight roads of the desert. Her hair whipped around her face and Frank had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road. She was a hurricane. She was a tornado. She was tearing him apart, but she didn’t mean to. She didn’t know she was doing it. It was just her nature. It was just his.

Frank knew where he wanted to take her next. It had nothing to do with the book and everything to do with wanting to see that shining expression on her face he had seen at Niagara Falls. He didn’t mention it to her, but he started driving west. She didn’t ask where they were going, just leaned her head back against the headrest, eyes closed against the sun warming her face.

It was the longest drive yet. They didn’t get in until after midnight. Karen was fast asleep in the passenger seat, and Frank left her there for a moment while he checked them into a huge, stone and wood lodge. He was almost glad she was sleeping. He wanted it to be a surprise.

She was still sleeping when he went back out to the car with the room keys. He was half-tempted to carry her inside, let her sleep. But that was too much. The last thing he needed was for her to wake up and start fighting him on the way. He knew she could defend herself. He didn’t want to test it.

Her hair had fallen over her face, and Frank brushed it away, as gently as he could manage. His hands felt like mitts, clumsy and too rough, but Karen’s eyes blinked open and he was lost. His fingertips lingered on her cheek and she leaned into the touch, murmuring something that sounded like his name.

“Come on. Got to get inside.” She took his offered hand and stood, rolling her neck to get the kinks out. Frank could hear the pops of her joints as she stretched. “Hungry?”

She shook her head, sleepy and slow. “No. Bed.” For a woman who was good with words, she always had trouble putting sentences together when she was tired. He knew that now.

He smiled. “Done.”

She fell into bed, fully clothed. Her eyes were closed before her head hit the pillow. Frank’s smile widened. He pulled the blankets back and lifted her legs to place them underneath. He tucked the covers around her and headed for the bathroom.

“Frank,” he heard Karen mumble. He froze, toothbrush in hand. “Frank.”

He forgot about brushing his teeth, washing his face, washing off the dust from the road. Karen needed him. That always came first.

She was curled in on herself, knees against her chest, but when Frank sank onto the mattress beside her, her body relaxed. He pulled her against him, face to his chest. Her arms locked around him and her body pressed against every inch of his. She was so soft. It hit him every time he held her. She was so soft. So vulnerable. But so, so strong.

They stayed that way all night. When Frank woke in the morning, Karen’s eyes were open. She was watching him sleep. He squeezed her tighter, feeling her heart beating against his. He couldn’t look at her. He just needed to feel her, here.

“Where are we, Frank?” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.

“Get dressed and we’ll go see.”

Dawn was breaking. They never slept late. Frank could just see the sunlight starting to filter through the curtains he had forgotten to close. Sunrise was going to be beautiful, he just knew it.

He gave Karen a little time to get herself together, and then they started walking. The sky was every color, pastel and beautiful, shot through with orange.

And there it was. He had chosen the hotel because it was so close. Lieberman had suggested it. Frank hated how he was always right about things like this. He hated that he kept asking Lieberman for help. His advice was always accompanied by suggestive comments and rude questions that made Frank blush to think about.

“The Grand Canyon?” Karen breathed, one hand over her mouth, the other clutching at his arm. Her eyes were wide. All thoughts of Lieberman flew out of Frank’s head. “Oh, Frank, it’s beautiful.” She glanced around, but no one was nearby. They were safe.

“Thought you’d like it.”

She had that look on her face again. The same one he had seen at Niagara Falls. Open, shining, beautiful. The reason he had brought her here. She was always beautiful, but there was something about seeing her here, with an impossible wonder in front of them, that struck Frank’s heart and made it beat faster. She was here. She was with him. She was happy. She was alive.

Karen wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled herself against him. She rested her head on his shoulder and he couldn’t think of anything better. He could stay like this forever, if she let him.

She wasn’t moving. Neither was he. For now, that would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea of Frank and Karen going to major landmarks in America and having those as a backdrop for grappling with these huge feelings they have for each other. So, that's the reason for Niagara Falls and the Grand Canyon, if you were curious.
> 
> I'll be honest. The next chapter is fighting me pretty hard, so I'm working on it, but I don't know when it will be done and ready for posting. I've taken it in three different directions so far, and I'm not totally happy with any of them. So, be on the lookout for the next chapter...sometime. I think I know where I want it to go, but suffice to say, it's a work in progress.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you to everyone for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. The response to this fic has been amazing, and I really appreciate all of you taking the time to follow this story. :)


	9. you open your eyes into mine

They spent the day walking slowly around the rim of the canyon. From every angle, it was astounding. It was a bright, clear day. The air was warm. Frank’s hand was in hers.

She couldn’t stop touching him. He didn’t seem to mind. To anyone else, she was sure they looked like a couple out on a romantic trip. She could almost believe it herself. She wondered if Frank could, too. If he wanted to. She was starting to think he might.

He was quiet. Calm. She could feel his pulse through his skin and it was steady. He was safe. So was she.

They found a bench, far from the entrance to the park, where there weren’t so many people. Karen almost couldn’t keep looking at the canyon. It was too much. Too big, too filled with hidden power, too intense. Just like Frank. She couldn’t look at him either.

His eyes were on the horizon, far across the giant, gaping hole in the ground. Karen could see all the layers, the millions of years of growth and erosion that had made this place possible. Far below, there was a river, carving its way through the rock. Slowly, steadily, eternally. It had taken a long time, but that slow flow of water had created what she saw in front of her.

Maybe moving slowly wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe, what she and Frank were doing was carving a masterpiece, one inch at a time. Maybe if she let things run their course, they would end up with something just as incredible as this place.

Frank squeezed her hand. “You’re thinking hard.”

“Is it that obvious?”

He smiled. “Usually.”

Karen knew she wasn’t good at hiding her feelings. Kevin had always said she had the worst poker face he’d ever seen, and he was right. It didn’t hurt, for once, to think of him. Frank had spent too much time with her not to be able to read her. She wondered if he could tell what she was thinking about. She wondered what he’d say if he knew.

She didn’t say any of that. “This is incredible. Thank you, Frank.”

He ducked his head. He was always harder to read, but Karen though she knew him well enough now to try. “I just,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just thought you’d like it.”

She took his hand in both of hers. “I do.” He always knew what she needed.

“Me too.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bench. The sun hit all the angles of his face and lit him up. He shone like the sun. Karen wasn’t sure how she’d ever resist his gravitational pull. She knew she didn’t want to.

When it got too hot to stay outside, they went in to the visitor center. They watched a documentary that had nothing on the real thing, but it was an excuse to lean against Frank in the dark of the theater.

They wandered the gift shop for a while, too, and Karen picked up a little keychain studded with copper that made her think of Frank. She looked around and didn’t see him. That was strange.

Head swiveling back and forth, Karen finally spotted him by the register. He was slouching, like he was hiding from something. Hiding from her. That was strange, too. She walked over, concealing the keychain in her palm, and Frank looked up at her, something almost guilty in his eyes.

“You okay?” she said, and he nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Just going to step outside. Take your time.”

Karen watched him go. Frank only got squirrelly like that when something was on his mind. She bought the keychain and shoved it into her purse. She wasn’t sure how, exactly, she was going to present it to him, but she’d figure it out.

He was standing outside, looking at the canyon, but it was like he couldn’t see it. He was standing at attention, hands clasped behind his back. Karen wondered at that. He had been so relaxed. Why the sudden return to military precision?

“Hungry?” he asked. Karen nodded. They hadn’t eaten all day. She had gotten more used to eating at strange times. She knew Frank wouldn’t let her starve. He was always worried she wasn’t eating enough. It made her think of him as a dad. She bet his daughter would have grown up so healthy, a dad like that. Maria had been very lucky.

The thought of Maria didn’t hurt her in the way it usually did. She had never been jealous of Frank’s wife. Not exactly. But she knew what Maria meant to him. What his family meant. She never wanted to step on that. She knew he needed time to process their deaths. She knew, better than anyone, how long that could take.

She fumbled with the keychain in her purse while they walked over to a restaurant with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the canyon. It was going to be sunset soon, and the place was packed. One look from Frank got them a table outside. A breeze was picking up, and it kept blowing Karen’s hair over her face. After the third time it happened, Karen groaned in frustration and tied it into a braid over her shoulder.

Frank was watching her carefully, over the top of his menu. His eyes traced the motion of her fingers as they plaited her hair.

“Looking to learn to braid?” she said, smiling at him.

He blushed a little, looking down at the table. She knew he blushed, now. She had seen it enough times over the last week to know.

“Wine?” he said, and Karen nodded. He ordered a bottle of rosé, and they clinked their glasses to being here, in this place. Together.

Karen considered Frank, after her plate was cleared, and decided now was as good a time as any to give him his gift.

“Here,” she said, handing him the little bag. “I got you something.”

Frank stared down at it like it might explode if he wasn’t careful. “What?”

“It’s not a big deal. Just reminded me of you.”

* * *

Frank was stunned. Karen was always so good. So sweet. So kind to him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he was fighting so hard to keep things platonic. Even when he wasn’t sure he even wanted to do that anymore.

He opened the bag and poured out its contents into his hands. It was a keychain. A star, made of beaten copper.

“A shining star?” he said, eyebrows raised.

Karen burst out laughing and Frank noticed the flush in her cheeks. They were the same color as the little pink flowers on her sundress. She poured herself a little more wine and topped off his glass. The sun was about to dip below the horizon and it was sending fiery light over them, making Karen glow in its reflection.

“I have something for you, too,” Frank said, clearing his throat. He pulled his own bag out of his pocket and handed it to her. He busied himself with attaching the keychain to his keys. He usually made a point of not having extra shit on his keys, but for Karen, he’d add a star. It wasn’t extra. It was important. She gave it to him.

He looked up to see that Karen’s hands were shaking a little as she opened the bag. She pulled out the silver necklace he had bought her, the chain delicate and fragile-looking in her fingers. The turquoise pendant twisted at the end of the chain, like a piece of the sky she could wear around her neck. It matched her eyes, just like he thought it would.

“Oh, Frank,” she said, voice catching in her throat. He was sure it was just the wine, but Karen’s eyes were trained on the pendant, and they were filling with tears. “It’s beautiful.” She held it up to her neck. “Would you?”

Frank felt dazed, but his legs were moving. He was pushing back his chair. He was behind Karen, taking the chain from her hands. She had pulled her hair over one shoulder to braid it, revealing the curve of her creamy white neck. Frank’s hands were shaking, but he managed to close the clasp. He let his fingers trail over her skin, and she shivered.

His hands traced the curve of her shoulders, and Karen leaned into the touch. She hummed, low in her throat, and Frank knew he needed to take his hands off her. He remembered how Maria had liked it when he kissed her, in that spot where her neck met her shoulders. He wondered if Karen would like it, too.

He didn’t even notice the first raindrop. Second, either. It wasn’t until the rain was pouring down around them, and everyone else was running off the deck, screaming at the downpour, that he even registered what was happening. He started to move towards the overhang, to huddle with the others, but Karen wasn’t moving.

Her face was upturned, eyes closed against the rain as it fell onto her skin. She was smiling serenely, like she had planned this. Frank wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything so beautiful. He wouldn’t even question it if she told him she controlled the weather. She was magic, after all.

“Karen?” he said, voice almost too low to be heard over the patter of raindrops.

She took a deep breath, arms out to the sides. Her dress was plastered to her body, her hair slicked to her forehead, but she still wasn’t moving.

“Dance with me, Frank,” she said quietly. No one could hear her but him. He was glad she used his real name. He hated when she called him Pete. She knew that.

“What?”

“Come on.” She held out her hand and he took it. He couldn’t do anything else.

He was already soaked through. So was she. She was shivering a little when he placed his hands on her waist, and he pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed deeply. Breathed him in. Soft music was playing over the restaurant speakers, but he couldn’t hear it.

They swayed slowly on the spot. Her perfume mixed with the smell of the rain, and he heard people muttering from where they sheltered under the overhang. He didn’t care. Let them say what they wanted.

He had Karen. That was enough. That was more than enough. He could hold her and let himself believe that maybe he deserved to, if only for a moment.

The rain felt like a baptism. A new birth. A penance that would leave him purified. Cleansed. Ready for a new life. Ready for a new love. It was like nature was giving him a way forward. Like Maria was telling him to do something about it. Insisting until he did it. She always did that. A silly little thing like death wouldn’t stop her from nagging.

He knew it couldn’t be that simple, but it was comforting to think that the universe might not be conspiring against them. That maybe, just maybe, they could make this, whatever _this_ was, work. He still wasn’t sure he deserved it, but something about the storm felt like a sign.

He pulled Karen closer and they danced until the rain stopped. If a few tears found their way down his cheeks, alongside the raindrops, neither of them noticed. Neither of them mentioned it, anyway.

Their wine and food was ruined, but they didn’t care. They stayed there, wrapped up in each other, until the staff had wiped off everyone’s chairs and offered free desserts to everyone. They left Karen and Frank alone. They couldn’t get their attention, anyway.

Frank tried to step away. Get back to where they were. But Karen hung on. She wouldn’t let him go. That had to mean something. It had to.

The sun broke through the clouds, sending its last rays of red and orange fire over them, and Karen shone in the light, water droplets glistening on her skin. Every time he saw her, she took his breath away, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend she didn’t. He didn’t want to pretend anymore.

“Frank,” she whispered, against the skin of his neck. “Frank.”

He squeezed her closer. “Karen,” he breathed. He was so afraid he would wake up.

She tilted her head back and her eyes caught his. They blazed blue in the light of the sunset, and Frank was lost. He was hers. She had to know.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned towards him. He couldn’t ask for a clearer sign of what she wanted. He closed the gap and finally got what he wanted. What he had wished for. What he had dreamed about.

He kissed Karen Page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end. I tried to stretch out the slow burn as long as I could, and I have so much more respect for the people who write well-paced 100ks without breaking a sweat (not that I didn't respect them before, but still).
> 
> Anyway, the story led itself here. Frank and Karen had to end up here. I also really like the idea that Frank was waiting for a sign from the universe (aka from Maria) that it's okay for him to move on. As a heads up, the next two chapters are like 90% smut, 10% closure, so look for that coming up this week. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading, subscribing, commenting, and leaving kudos. I appreciate you guys so much, I can't even put it into words. You're the best. :)


	10. you touch me once and it's really something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much 100% smut, so if that's not your thing, I'd skip this one.

Karen couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. All she could feel was Frank. Frank, and his lips on hers.

That first kiss was brief. Chaste, even. Like he just wanted to try it out. See how it went.

When he broke the kiss, Karen held on tighter. She pulled his face back to hers, desperate for more contact. This kiss was far from chaste. Teeth, tongues, lips, hands. It was a battle. It was a surrender.

Karen hardly noticed as Frank tossed some money on the table and led her out of the restaurant. She could feel eyes on them, muttering voices. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let this moment pass them by. Not after all the time they had lost already.

He threw open the hotel room door with a bang, and pulled her against him as soon as it closed. He pushed her back, against the wood, hands in her hair and lips tracing a path down her neck. Karen arched into him, the white-hot heat of his mouth setting her on fire. He pawed at the neckline of her dress, giving him access to more of her skin.

“Frank,” she moaned. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging on it, glad it was long enough now to tug on. He growled against her chest, the sound vibrating through her. “Frank, come here.”

He straightened immediately, eyes searing into her, pupils dark with desire. Karen pulled him closer. She wanted to feel him against her. He was always warm, but now, he was scorching her with every touch. Sparks were prickling over every inch of her body. He had on too many clothes. So did she.

She let her hands trail down his back to the hem of his shirt. Her fingertips traced the skin as she pushed it up. She felt the puckered remains of scars and caressed each one. Frank’s scars were part of him, as much as his eyes or his smile or that huge, beating heart she could feel thundering in his chest.

He lifted his arms and she pulled off his shirt. Frank crowded against her, pressing her against the door, but Karen wanted to see him. She needed to see him.

She pushed him back, gently, but hard enough he knew what she wanted. He looked softer now, a little nervous. Like he was afraid to let her look at him. Like he was afraid she wouldn’t like what she found.

But what she saw was Frank. All of him. All the scars, all the traces of the violence that lived inside him. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. Gently. Carefully. She needed him to understand.

He relaxed under her touch and she let herself explore him, with her lips and tongue and hands. His muscles contracted each time she touched him, but he didn’t try to stop her. Didn’t try to do anything else. Just let Karen do what she wanted. Just like he always did.

Her fingers lingered at his belly button, at the waistband of his pants, but before she could move to his fly, reveal the rest of him, he took her hands in his.

He didn’t say a word as he led her to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and tugged her forward until she was standing between his knees. He pressed his cheek against her belly and breathed, slow and deep, arms locked around her thighs. Karen felt her heartbeat slowing, and she carded her fingers through his hair. He hummed at the sensation, nuzzling closer.

“Frank,” she murmured, and he lifted his head to look at her. “Frank.”

One of his hands found the back of her neck and he pulled her down to kiss him. He was soft, gentle. She knew he would be. The violence in him had never been for her. Not ever. His tongue pushed past her lips and his teeth grazed her lower lip. He bit down, just hard enough to steal her breath, make her wish she could get closer, push her way past his scarred skin to live inside him, like he lived inside her.

His hands traced up the back of her legs, pushing the hem of her dress up her legs until he found the lacy hem of her panties. Karen helped him peel the dress off and she tossed it to the side. Frank sucked in a sharp breath, hands hot on her ribcage as he sat back and considered her. Karen shivered, and he grinned, savage and sweet.

He pulled her down on top of him, her knees bending to meet the mattress. She could feel him, hard and strong beneath her, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against her in the most infuriating way. She ground against him and he hissed, eyes falling closed.

“Karen,” he murmured, gathering her hair in one hand to suck at the skin of her neck. Karen wasn’t usually a fan of hickeys, but for Frank, she didn’t care. She wanted him to mark her, she wanted people to know. She was his. He was hers. For real this time. In every way.

He left a trail of sloppy kisses down her chest, tongue tracing the edge of her bra. He fumbled with the clasp of her bra, and Karen sighed in relief when it opened and fell away. Frank growled and latched on to one of her nipples, teeth closing around it, just this side of too hard. Karen whimpered and he released her immediately.

“Sorry,” he whispered, the flat of his tongue soothing the spot. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she murmured back, holding his head against her. He smiled against her skin and nibbled at the tightening nub, much gentler this time. Karen felt a moan vibrate out of her and clenched her thighs together, searching for more pressure.

Frank noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed. He always knew what she needed. His hands fell to her ass, pressing her closer to him as he rolled them over.

He stood over her, eyes drinking her in. Karen might have felt embarrassed, with someone else. But there was no point trying to hide from Frank. She had never been able to keep anything from him for long. Why would this be any different?

He toed out of his boots and shucked off his pants and boxer-briefs. Karen couldn’t breathe. He was a god, all hard muscle and sinew. But he was a man, hands shaking a little when he reached for her. His hands fell to her hips and he inched her panties down her thighs, leaving goosebumps behind wherever his fingertips touched her.

There was nothing between them now. Nothing to hide them from each other. Nothing but skin and sweat and desire and love. Always, underneath every touch, every breath, every moan. She loved him. He loved her. They knew it now. They let themselves feel it now. It was everything.

* * *

Frank could admit it. He was more than a little overwhelmed. After so long, holding back from her, to have Karen here, naked under him, was more than he could have imagined. Touching her, kissing her, feeling her skin under his was better than anything he had dreamed. He didn’t know how he would ever stop. He didn’t know if he could. He knew he didn’t want to.

He knelt at the end of the bed, pressing his hands into her hips to keep himself from shaking to pieces. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. This was something he could do. This was something he wanted to do. Desperately. But he needed to know if she wanted him to. It was always what Karen wanted, for him. Always.

“Frank,” Karen murmured, looking down at him with eyes more black than blue, pupils blown wide with desire. “Touch me.”

He smiled. She knew what he needed. He never had to tell her.

He tugged at Karen’s knees and slid her down to the edge of the mattress. He lifted her thighs and laid them on his shoulders. God, she was perfect. He turned his face to kiss the inner part of her thigh, moving as slowly as he could manage towards her center. He could smell her, musky and sweet and waiting for him.

He had always loved this. Always loved making a woman squirm under him. He hadn’t done it with many women, but Maria had always loved it. Begged for it.

“Frank, please.” Karen was begging now. Pleading with him to just do it already. Her hips arched off the bed, desperate to touch him.

But he knew the waiting would make it all the sweeter. He pressed her hips down, forearm over her belly, and Karen whined.

“Just wait, Karen,” he mumbled, nosing at the crease where her thigh met her hip. “I promise it will be worth it. Trust me.”  
“I trust you,” she whispered, biting her lip.

It was all Frank needed to hear. He traced his tongue over her folds, letting the taste of her spread into his mouth. He hated when people said women should taste like strawberries or peaches or whatever bullshit porn made people think they should want. A woman should taste like a woman. Karen tasted like Karen, and it was the headiest taste he had ever experienced.

He couldn’t get enough. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue and she gasped out a strangled cry when he hit the right spot. He felt her thighs clenching around his head and kept up the pace. He wanted to feel her fall over the edge. He wanted to taste that, too.

When he slid a finger inside her, he nearly had to stop, to collect himself. She was so wet, so hot, so ready, he could hardly stand it. He looked up at her, her head to the side, hair all over the bed, mouth open in a silent cry while her hands fisted the comforter at her sides. She was so close.

He added another finger, thrusting them slowly in and crooking his fingers to hit the spot he wanted, tongue still circling her clit. He stroked at her, adding pressure until Karen tensed beneath him, shuddering to her climax with a throaty groan.

Frank twisted his fingers one more time inside her, felt the aftershocks rippling through her, and grinned, wiping his face on the comforter as he moved up to cover her body with his.

Karen looked wrecked, wrung out. Her lips were red and plump and she was breathing hard, but when she kissed him, she was still so hungry for him, lips and teeth drawing him in, making it hard to remember why they hadn’t been doing this before.

Frank was so hard it was starting to hurt, but he didn’t want to rush her. He didn’t want to hurt her. All he wanted was to make her feel good. He wanted what she wanted.

“Karen,” he said, between kisses. “Karen.” They could still stop. He needed her to know that. They didn’t have to rush. He would never rush her. She had to know that.

She smiled against his lips, wrapping her legs around him. “Please, Frank.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled her over, so he could see her. So she could set the pace. She knew what he needed. She always did.

She was a goddess, hair flowing over her shoulders. She was a woman, legs trembling as she lifted herself over him. One of Frank’s hands fell between her breasts, and he let it keep falling. He loved the feeling of her skin under his. He couldn’t get enough.

Karen took his hand and wrapped it around his cock with hers to slide it inside. She gasped at the stretch, stilled, pushed on. His strong, beautiful girl. She was slippery, fiery hot, and so goddamn tight. When he was fully inside her, he couldn’t think of anything better than this feeling. He could stay here, with Karen, for the rest of his life. He didn’t need anything else. She was inside him in so many ways, it felt right to be inside her, too.

She didn’t move, for a long moment. She let her body adjust, let herself stretch around him until she was ready.

When she did move, Frank’s eyes rolled back. She was so goddamn tight. He shook his head and watched her, felt her, held her. She ground her hips against him and he felt her thighs tensing again. Her fingernails left angry red trails behind, as she raked them over his chest. He didn’t care. He’d had worse. He’d never have better. She was it. His after.

She came with his name on her lips and he sat up, holding her to him while he kissed her. She was breathless, shivering, and he knew he needed to let her recover. He needed to let her come back to him. He could do it.

He shifted them back over, laid her down beneath him. He pulled out until only the head of his cock was still inside her. She reached for him, and he slid home.

“Come for me, Frank,” Karen murmured against his neck. He was sweating. So was she. Their bodies slid against each other with soft, wet sounds, and he knew it wouldn’t take long.

His pace increased, until his vision went white at the pulsing of her walls around him and he came with a grunt. He let himself fall. Karen caught him. She always did.

When he rolled off her, Karen curled against him, her body warm against him. She kissed his shoulder and he pulled her up with him, so they could pull up the blankets and stay this way.

He had never slept so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, subscribing, and just generally being the best. I really appreciate it and I'm so grateful that you guys are taking the time to read what I'm putting out there.


	11. all i know since yesterday is everything has changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is smut, so if that's not your thing, skip down to the page break to read the resolution. :)

Karen thought it was a dream. She had a moment, before she opened her eyes, that she was sure she had just had an even more vivid fantasy than usual about Frank that would make it hard to look him in the eyes again.

But then her eyes fluttered open against the morning light and there he was. Just like she remembered. His skin against hers, warm and smooth. She moved her hand, stroked over the expanse of his chest. She almost still couldn’t believe it. She could touch him, as much as she wanted.

He mumbled something in his sleep, arm tightening around her. Karen’s face broke into a smile and she hid it against Frank’s shoulder.

“Karen,” he murmured. His fingers traced the bones of her spine, down to the curve of her ass. He smiled, eyes still closed. “I’m dreaming.”

“No,” she whispered. His eyes opened into hers, and she was lost. “No. You’re not.”

He kissed her, one hand behind her head, tangling in her hair. He was still sleepy. Loose. Relaxed. So was she. She could stay like this all day, if he wanted. They didn’t have to go an inch farther, if they could just do this all the time. She didn’t care who found them. She didn’t care about the book. She didn’t care about anything but Frank.

The thought should have scared her. She was too independent for it not to. But if this trip had taught her anything, it was that Frank didn’t want to take her independence. He wanted to fit himself into her life, not the other way around. He would do whatever she asked. She had known that before, but she really knew it now. He was hers. She was his. There was nothing to be done about it.

He squeezed her against him, his thigh sliding between hers. Karen was wet already. Now that she knew what he could do, what they could do together, she was more than ready for round two.

So was Frank, if the hard weight on her hip was any indication. Karen reached down between them and stroked it. Feeling it inside her had been one thing. Trying to wrap her fingers around it was something else entirely. Holding the girth of him in her hand, she had a hard time believing he had ever fit. But she knew he had. She could still feel the dull ache between her thighs from their exertions the night before.

Frank cursed under his breath as her grip tightened. She could feel his pulse thumping through the veins that rose on his cock.

Karen had a thought, and she wondered how Frank would feel about it. She pushed herself up to straddle his knees, pushing the blanket off them both. She wanted to see him. She wanted him to see her.

She leaned down and touched the tip of her tongue to the head of his cock. He shuddered out a breath, and when she looked up at him, his eyes were hooded and heavy.

“You don’t have to,” he mumbled, even as his thighs tensed beneath her and his breath came out in shaking gasps.

“Frank,” she said, tracing the underside of his cock with the flat of her tongue. “I want to. Please, let me take care of you for once.”

“Okay.” He settled back on the pillows, one hand falling to her head almost lazily. He didn’t push. Didn’t thrust into her mouth. He let her do what she wanted. He always did.

She imagined she could taste herself on him. Maybe she could. They hadn’t moved since the night before. The thought made her squirm for him. She wanted to feel him inside her again.

But this was almost better. Frank was at her mercy. The Punisher had surrendered himself to her hands. He was trying to keep himself under control. He did that. She wanted to see him come undone.

“Let go, Frank,” she said softly, before taking him fully in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and listened to the hisses and groans that were being wrenched out of his body. Karen hadn’t given a blow job in a long time. Longer than she cared to remember, if she was honest. She had never been fond of them.

But now, if she could keep those sounds coming out of Frank, keep him trembling like this, she would do this every day. All the raw power in him was contained. She was containing it. She held it in her hands, in her mouth. He was mumbling her name over and over like a prayer, voice low and rough.

She felt his muscles bunching under her palms, and his hand in her hair tightened. He pulled her up, to meet his lips again.

“You keep that up, I won’t last long,” he said, nuzzling her nose with his.

“Maybe that’s what I wanted.”

He smiled. “I don’t. Come with me.”

He stood and took her hand, leading her towards the bathroom. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and leaned out the door to hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle. Karen shivered. He was planning something. She couldn’t wait to find out what.

She followed him into the shower. It was all stone and glass. Hard and sharp. Just like him. Just like her. Nothing like them, together.

He turned on the water and pulled her under the spray with him. It was strange, because it wasn’t. This was how they were, now. This was who they were, together. Warm and comfortable and safe.

Frank was still hard. Karen squirted some soap into her hands and lathered his chest, letting her hands wander where they wanted. He didn’t try to stop her. His hands were everywhere, too. They had spent so long avoiding this, it was like they had to make up the time by learning each other’s bodies right now. Today. Immediately. Completely. She couldn’t think of anything better.

Frank’s skin was slick with the soap, and she felt her fingers sliding over his healed bullet wounds and shrapnel scars. She pressed closer to him, until her body was flush with his. He grunted, and let her push him back against the stone wall, tongues tangling together in another scorching kiss.

Karen was clawing at him now, desperate to feel him against her. Desperate to get him inside her.

He always knew what she needed. He lifted her like she weighed nothing at all, and she wrapped her legs around him. She sank down onto his length and it was like coming home. She was whole. She was complete. She was his. He was hers.

He buried his face in her shoulder, murmuring her name as he thrusted into her. Karen’s breasts bounced with every thrust, and she held him to her, touching as much of him as she could reach.

She felt her orgasm building until she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She wasn’t sure she had ever come so many times in a day. She had a feeling Frank would be happy to work on beating the record. She would be too.

“Frank,” she cried, walls clenching around him. She felt him pulsing inside her, and his thrusts picked up until he was pounding into her so hard she saw stars. She held onto him and rode it out. This was what he needed.

He came with a sob, cock twitching inside her as he emptied himself into her. He let her legs fall, and she realized she was shaking. So was he. He held her against his chest, and she felt him crying.

“Frank?” she said, looking up at him. Her big, bad Punisher was crying. Tears were streaming down his face. It broke her heart to see him this way. “Frank.”

* * *

Frank could see it in Karen’s eyes. She was upset. Scared it was her fault. Worried she had hurt him, somehow. As if she ever could. She was always so aware of him and his feelings. He was sure she must be thinking this had something to do with Maria.

It did and it didn’t. Maria was always in his mind, but after the rainstorm, after last night, he was sure. He had always known it. Revenge had blinded him, but he knew. Maria wanted him to find peace. Find someone who brought him peace. He had that now. He had Karen. He needed her to know that.

“Frank,” she murmured, pressing his face into her shoulder. “Frank, I’m sorry. I know this must be a lot for you.”

“No.” His voice was caught in his throat. “No,” he said, louder this time. “No. I just…” he mumbled, searching for the words he wanted. “I haven’t done this in a long time. I didn’t expect to feel so much.” It wasn’t perfect, but he hoped she understood. He had never been good with words.

“I know, Frank. Me neither.” She squeezed his hands before pouring shampoo into her own. She massaged his scalp with her long fingers and he purred at the contact. “It’s okay. I understand.”

The sad shadow in her eyes told him she didn’t. Not really. “No. It’s not what you think.” She stopped, hands falling to either side of his neck. “I’m just, so _happy_. You make me so happy. I haven’t felt that in a long time.” It sounded stupid to his ears. “I forgot I knew how.”

Karen was crying now, too. She wiped at her eyes. “You make me happy too, Frank.”

He kissed her, long and slow. They had time. They could do this all day. No one could stop them now. Not even themselves.

“Karen,” he mumbled against her lips. “Karen.”

She rested her forehead against his, like they were still trapped in that elevator that terrible day. That day, when he was sure he would lose her.

But she was here. She was whole. She was his. He was hers. They had all the time in the world.

“I love you,” he murmured, as he kissed her again. She froze against him, blue eyes wide.

“What?” she said, and he felt her heart pounding in her chest., thumping in time with his.

“I love you.” He did. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but she needed to know.

The smile that spread across her face was like the sunrise over the Grand Canyon. Ineffable, impossible, so incredibly beautiful he couldn’t speak.

“I love you,” she whispered back, as she kissed him again.

Needless to say, they didn’t leave the hotel room that day. Or the next. There was so much to discover. So much to learn. He never wanted to stop. Neither did she.

By the third day, they were ready to drive again, but Frank couldn’t stop touching her. His hand fell to her bare knee while he drove, and she brushed her knuckles over his face when he started singing along to the radio, fond smile on her face.

They were driving to California, but the destination seemed much less important, now. He had Karen. She had him. She always did, but now she knew it. He knew it too.

When they made it to the Pacific, the sun was setting, orange and red over the blue of the ocean. Karen was smiling, eyes closed against the ocean breeze. Her skirt swirled around her long legs, and Frank had a hard time keeping his hands off her thighs. He didn’t think she’d mind, but she was a lady. She deserved better than some hormone-crazed monster pawing at her in public.

“Where to next?” she asked.

“Hotel,” Frank said, voice low. “Unless you’re hungry.”

“No,” she said, smile widening. “Not hungry. And there’s always room service.”

Frank grinned and pulled her into his arms, swinging her around in a circle. All it took was a road trip, a week and a half in the car, and three thousand miles, but they had finally figured it out. Finally found what they needed.

Frank was going to hold on to it. Hold onto her. With two hands. Never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a lopsided chapter, but we made it! They made it! Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, commented, subscribed, or otherwise interacted with this story. I'm overwhelmed by the response, and I feel so lucky to be part of such a great, supportive fandom. <3


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